I Remember You
by etlamelodie
Summary: The story begins when Chloe's drink gets drugged at Lucifer's nightclub. The investigation leads them down the muddled line between myth and fact and challenges their self-concept as they navigate their complicated relationship. It's time to reinvent yourself. Rated M for language and some sexual content.
1. Chapter 1: The Nightclub

_Hey guys! The song briefly mentioned in the middle is I Remember You by Schertzinger and Mercer. I recommend listening to the version performed with piano by Aaron Tveit to set the mood for that part. Enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter 1.**

It was a busy night at the nightclub where Chloe came to find Lucifer. She pushed her way through the crowd and glanced around the booths in the center without any luck. Perhaps he was busy up in his penthouse with 5 or 6 Britneys, she thought with annoyance. Whatever. She made her way to the bar where Maze rolled her eyes and poured her a dark-colored cocktail before she could order. Chloe took a sip and admired the taste. Maze was good at… well, just about everything she did, Chloe thought. Her innermost feelings toward the woman, if she were ever to be honest about them, were probably begrudging admiration and a desire to steer clear. This was accented by the undoubtedly passive-aggressive flower dumped on top of her drink.

She swirled the cocktail while she turned to take another look around the club. There was a group of people in the corner and if he was anywhere to be found, he'd certainly be right in the middle of it. Chloe shuffled through the crowd again, making her way by dozens of immaculately dressed women in short sparkling dresses and a couple of men in expensive-looking suits. She hardly noticed as several of them bumped into her, muttering apologies or trying to start a conversation. Finally, she reached the mob in the corner and saw, with growing aggravation, that he wasn't there either. She sighed and downed the rest of her drink.

" _Detective!"_ She almost choked as he appeared, seemingly out of thin air, in front of her. But of course.

"You look enchanting, as always. Are you enjoying yourself?" he cooed, flashing his well-rehearsed million dollar smile, and instinctively took her empty glass from her, leading her back to the bar. People moved out of his way, making this walk much easier.

"I was actually looking for you."

"Oh? Then do forgive me for keeping you waiting. What is it that I can do for you tonight?" He motioned for Maze to refill the glass and held it out to Chloe.

She mindlessly took the drink, but wasn't particularly interested in having another, so she held it in her hand. "There was something I noticed when I was going over some paperwork tonight. Namely, that the chief's signature seemed… unusual. You wouldn't happen to know if someone tried to _forge_ it, would you?"

"Detective, I hope you're not insinuating that I would _ever—"_

"I didn't say it was you."

"Yes, very well, look, it's not like the chief would mind. Her hands were just a little… busy at the moment," he grinned.

"Ugh!" Chloe thrust the drink back in his hands and turned to walk away.

"Oh come on, detective, don't let a little thing like that ruin your evening! If it'll make you feel better, I'll have her sign a fresh copy tomorrow morning."

"You'd better."

"Okay!" He laughed. "I promise. Now, is there—" he was interrupted by a group of intoxicated women who flung themselves all over him. "Ladies, please," he tried to politely remove himself from their grip, but by the time he looked up, Chloe was gone. He gave a short sigh of annoyance, but his temperament quickly changed as he decided to make the best of the situation and returned his attention to the women calling his name.

Meanwhile, Chloe made her way to the bathrooms, suddenly feeling stifled by the atmosphere in the club. She planted herself in front of the mirrors, between several chatting women who were fixing their makeup. As she looked down at her hands gripping the sink, the floor seemed to spin a little. _Surely_ , she thought, _I'm not drunk from one cocktail._

She looked up at herself in the mirror and suddenly the whole evening seemed so funny! Lucifer, faking a signature, like he probably did on his report cards in elementary school, it was so very juvenile and so him. She didn't notice as the women stopped discussing the men outside and glanced at her sideways before leaving. She also didn't notice that she was laughing out loud. She let her hair out of her ponytail and ran her hands through it, fluffing it up. She looked quite good today, she thought. Though she was still in her work clothes, Lucifer said she looked _enchanting_. And damn right, she did! She popped open a few of the buttons on her blouse, admiring her cleavage. Fumbling with her purse, she finally found a lipstick. _No, not that one,_ she thought, _that one's for everyday._ She rummaged some more and pulled out a small tester-sized one. _This one._ Carefully, she removed the cap and dabbed it on her lips in the mirror. It was a dark venomous red. Way too much work, normally, but she kept it with her just in case… something, something like this. It felt like it took hours, but she finally managed to line her lips carefully and sprayed some perfume on her neck. She fumbled, dropping the perfume and the lipstick in turn, but eventually got them into her purse and closed it. She stumbled on her way out of the bathroom.

The music had changed while she was in there. There was now a piano playing somewhere in the center, an upbeat jazz melody, and people were laughing and talking louder than before. There were so many sounds. Clinking glasses, shuffling sequins, heels clicking on the floor… she made her way to the nearest pole which she held on to for support as the dancer leaned down to her. "Are you okay, honey?"

"Oh yes! And you… are such a good dancer. You're so beauuutiful!" Chloe cooed through a grin, feeling very much unlike her usual self. She felt suddenly unencumbered by her usual limitations, and the lights were more bright, and the colors more vivid, and the music seemed to play from the very middle of her own ribcage.

The music! She suddenly remembered Lucifer and saw him sitting at the piano, facing away from her. She approached him from behind, struggling a little to keep her balance, and leaned a little too close over his shoulder as she purred "hi," startling him. He turned his head and instinctively drew away from her, as her face was almost touching his.

"Detective! You seem…" he looked her up and down, his eyes resting a slight moment longer at her now unbuttoned blouse as his hands found the melody again, "…different. I do so love that lipstick on you. And that blouse." He smirked and she swayed a little. "Oh my, how much have you had to drink while I was gone?"

"Nothing!" She answered a little too quickly with the earnestness of a child trying to prove her innocence.

"It's alright, dear," he chuckled, "certainly you can be allowed to enjoy your vices once in a while like everybody else."

She laughed, slowly making her way to the side of the piano. "I want you—" he looked up at her "—to play me something special!" she giggled. She seemed uncharacteristically vivacious, he thought, but it was a rare treat to see this drunken persona of hers so he happily obliged, changing the tune with a few blues runs. She let her elbows rest on the piano, putting her head in her hands and watching him expectantly. He purposefully avoided her gaze, a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, as he set a chord and paused. The whole club hushed with anticipation, but all he thought of was her breathlessness and the twinkle in her eyes.

" _I remember you,"_ he sang in a breathy tone. _"You're the one who made my dreams come true, a few kisses ago…"_ his fingers picked up the movement of the music momentarily, then settled on another chord. _"I remember you, you're the one who said, I love you too… I do, didn't you know?"_

The sound of the piano grew steadily as he sang and the rest of the crowd seemed to melt away. She felt like she was on a cruise ship, looking out at the pinks and oranges of a sunset at sea. Each note of the piano struck the surface like a water drop, causing waves to radiate from it and fade into the horizon, blurring the colors of the sunset reflected in the water. The music enveloped her in calm and she felt suspended in a colorful summer rain, full of beauty, completely alone, molded by the distant warmth of that enchanting voice.

As he played, he felt the notes pour out of his core with an honesty that he didn't usually allow to move through the keys of his piano. He liked this song, but he'd never played it for his guests before. She did ask for something special. He noticed with amusement the goosebumps that crept up the back of his neck. Very rarely, but sometimes, music touched him this way, and it was a feeling he reveled in. He wondered if she felt it too. Only a few humans he'd met seemed able to understand this feeling washing over them, but he hoped tonight so desperately that she was one of them.

" _When my life is through, and the angels as me to recall the thrill of them all,"_ out of the corner of his eye, he saw her rocking slightly to the rhythm, but the song was coming to an end and the notes were slowing down. He let his voice grow quieter and more expectant, pausing slightly after every few words. _"Then I shall tell them… I remember you."_ He wrapped up the piece with a jazzy glissando and planted the last note like a long-awaited puzzle finally coming into place.

He finally allowed himself to look up at her, slightly nervous to see her reaction, as the crowd applauded and went back to mingling. She stared at him with glossy eyes, smiling wide, but not saying a word. He felt even more nervous, somehow, enough to notice this strange feeling in himself. "What's wrong?" he asked, eager to break the silence.

"It's so beautiful…" she murmured, slurring a little. "I was in a sunset… on a ship… with seagulls!" she giggled, spreading her arms further along the piano and laying her cheek down. "And rain! Rain with… different colors, like… like a rain rainbow! A rainnnnbow… hahaha!"

He didn't notice the rare genuine smile that crept up his face as she talked, but she did, and she pointed at him. "There!"

"What?"

"You smiled."

He seemed startled, as if caught red-handed, and instantly the smile faded into his usual snarky grin. "I smile rather often, detective! Perhaps unlike you."

"No!" His eyes grew wider as her volume turned a couple of heads. "Not like that!"

He got up and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Darling, how much _did_ you have to drink?"

She shook her head.

"It's okay, do I seem like the type who would judge?"

"Only one!"

He seemed confused. Maze appeared at his side, summoned by the spectacle Chloe was now beginning to make of herself. "She's telling the truth, I only made her one drink tonight." Maze turned her head away from Chloe and added in a hushed tone in Lucifer's ear, "Someone must've slipped something in it."

Rage instantly washed over his face and he gritted his teeth. Maze took a step back. He clenched his fists, then took a breath and relaxed. _"Find. Them."_ He growled at Maze, and she nodded and slunk away.

"Detective, I think you'd better come with me." He spoke in a stern voice, but peeled her from the piano gently and placed an arm around her shoulders as she staggered.

"Lucifer, I don't feel so good…" she placed an arm on his chest, indicating that she wanted to stop.

"I know, darling, I know. I'm sorry. Let's get you somewhere comfortable." He urged her to keep walking toward the elevator.

She shook her head. "Everything is spinning…"

He looked concerned. "Okay, alright. May I pick you up?" She looked up at him to nod yes and he swiftly placed his other arm under her knees, carrying her to the elevator. She wrapped her arms around his neck as it arrived and buried her face in his shoulder to shield her from the overwhelming noise of the club. He noticed a faint scent of perfume as he carried her into the elevator and instantly identified it. Of course the detective would choose Chanel.


	2. Chapter 2: The Penthouse

**Chapter 2.**

As the doors closed behind them, Lucifer set Chloe down on his couch and knelt in front, examining her face. He put two fingers on her throat to check her pulse and found that it was racing. Cupping her face with his other hand, he raised it to look into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated and unfocused. When he found whoever did this, he thought, there would be more than hell to pay…

"Luciii…" she whined, then fell into a fit of giggling again, and he suddenly remembered his hands were still on her. As soft as her skin felt to his touch, he drew them away in an attempt not to violate the boundaries she would remember tomorrow morning when she's sober. He got up and walked behind his bar to pour her a tall glass of water.

"Drink this." She obliged, taking a few sips. "The whole thing," he added firmly. She gulped it down like a child, smearing her dark red lipstick as she slid the glass down her bottom lip and handed it to him.

"Darling, I'm so sorry, but it seems someone tonight has—"

"—put something in my drink." She nodded, both aware of her situation and struggling to remain alert to her surroundings.

"Perhaps I should take you to a hospital."

"No!" she suddenly jumped up and grasped his shirt, scared, and spoke with unusual coherence. "They'll bench me at work if they find out, make me go through rehab just in case, it'll be a paperwork nightmare…"

"But your safety is most important, and I don't know what was in your drink." He spoke calmly, but she could see fury and apprehension behind his eyes.

"It's okay," she said, sitting down again, "It was probably a ruphie. I was walking through the crowd… I don't feel sick, just dizzy."

He sighed. "Fine. But if I see you get _any_ worse, even a little bit, I will not debate this with you."

She nodded.

"And just in case, you'd better stay awake for a while so I can watch you."

She nodded again and muttered "thank you" down at her knees.

"It's the least I can do for allowing a scum like that into my nightclub, a bottom-feeder who would prey on women, on you…" She could see his fists clench in anger again and reached her hand to place it over his. His anger melted away as quickly as it came and he sat down beside her, trying to hide his worry. In trying to find something to distract himself with, he narrowed his eyes at the lipstick smeared onto her chin. With her lips parted slightly like that, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of it. He instinctively reached up to fix it as she started to giggle again and broke him out of his trance. He took his hand away.

"I'm tired," she finally said, laying her head on his shoulder. He shook her off, turning to face her. "No, no no no no no, you need to stay awake."

She whined, "But I'm so sleepy!"

"I'll, uh…" he looked around the room, searching for something, "I'll find a way to entertain you."

"Oh yeah?" she laughed. "How are you going to do that?"

He hadn't found an adequate activity yet and was looking at his bookcase when he felt her pick up his hand. He stared as she clumsily climbed up on the couch on all fours and attempted to say in a sultry voice, "I have an idea," before putting the tip of his index finger into her mouth. He raised an eyebrow, allowing her to continue for a moment before gently pulling his hand away. She wavered off balance and he caught her by her shoulders. "Chloe…"

She bit her lip and looked up at him. "Whaat?"

She had a dark kind of sparkle in her eyes and he knew what it meant. He'd even seen it there a few times when she was sober. He knew what she wanted, and any other night he would've been more than happy to give it to her, but not like this. Though, the sight before him was something he wouldn't easily be able to forget. "Darling," he sat her back into the couch and picked up her hands in his, adopting his usual sultry tone, "I'm flattered, really, but you aren't thinking straight."

"Yes I am!" she protested.

"No, you aren't, and you must think little of me if you imagine I would take advantage."

She sighed. "I know you wouldn't, but…" she suddenly laughed, surprised by her flooding honesty, "I feel so _free_ tonight and a part of me _hoped_ , I guess, that you… that I… I want…"

He smirked and cut her off. "If you ask nicely when you're sober, I might consider it."

"Consider it!" She scoffed. "Well if _that's_ how you feel—"

"Chloe." He silenced her as he kissed her hand, feeling dangerously close to revealing more than he would be able to take back. "Let's not talk about this anymore."

"Fine." She sounded disappointed and he felt apologetic for that. It wasn't often that he denied a woman he cared about, well, anything, and that's mainly because it wasn't often that he cared about anyone. This was all unfamiliar territory, and it was as exciting as it was deeply disturbing. He watched, unsure of how to continue, while she got up and walked around his living room, looking around at the various decorations.

As she wandered farther, he got up to keep an eye on her. She stopped in front of a large amber vase stylishly backlit on a shelf. He walked up behind her. "It was a gift, given to me centuries ago by a great scholar."

"Centuries!" she laughed and took a small step backward to lean against him. He didn't protest. "Right. And what was this schooler… scholar… scholaring?"

"Medicine, believe it or not. Back in those ages, it was a terribly messy occupation, but he was one of the pioneers of the science. I helped, of course." He grinned, absent-mindedly running his hands down her arms. She shuddered and a small sound escaped her throat. The sensitivity of her skin was heightened by the drugs and it felt like a waterfall of pleasure washing over her. He noticed and repeated the motion with just the tips of his fingers grazing her bare skin. The scent of her hair momentarily overpowered his resolve, but he quickly remembered and dropped his hands.

She whined in frustration, pleading, "I want you to touch me!"

" _Chloe…"_ he implored her to stop challenging his willpower, his voice barely above a whisper.

"My hands! Surely that's innocent enough for you, you _big bad_ —"

"Chloe." His tone was warning this time and she backed off, turning around.

She held out her right hand expectantly. "Go on. I just want to see if you live up to your reputation. You brag all day about your conquests and then you show me no love. Are you all talk?"

He glowered at how obviously she was manipulating him before fixing his attention on the hand before him. _Fine, two can play at that game,_ he thought, taking her fingers into his palm.

"Don't move," he instructed coldly, as he turned her hand over and ran the fingertips of his other hand over it, staring fixedly into her eyes the whole time. She squirmed and her breath quickened, but she hardly blinked. He took a step toward her so their hands were now at his chest and dug both of his thumbs into her palm. Drawing tiny circles down the length of each of her fingers, he watched as she struggled not to look over his physique. His black button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up just below the elbow, and the top buttons undone… _oops,_ she thought, as he caught her wandering eyes and smirked. Finally, with agonizing slowness, he lowered his lips toward her knuckles and brushed them ever so slightly, denying her a full kiss. She kept his gaze, looking a little like she was ready to pounce on him, but didn't move as instructed.

He cocked his head to the side, relishing the darts she was shooting with her eyes, "Good girl." He knew that was the icing on the cake that would set her off and countered her hand grabbing at his collar, clutching it tightly and pushing her back against the stand with the vase. "I didn't say you could do that," he warned playfully, and she attempted to lunge at him again. He easily avoided her, much to her frustration and his amusement.

"I'll get you for this!" she threatened, eyes glowing with intrigue and energy.

"Excellent." He replied, insinuating that it's what he wanted all along because he knew it would drive her crazy. She growled and gripped his face with her fingernails, forcing him to look her in the eye. He let her stare him down for a moment before walking her back against the vase stand again, this time bumping into it quite hard. The vase went flying downward, but he caught it with one hand without ever taking his eyes off her lips. As he leaned in to place it back, he felt all of her muscles tense. Her hand let go of his face and wrapped around the back of his neck. He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, smudging the lipstick. She anticipated that he would whisper something inflammatory in her ear, but he simply paused there for a second, listening to both of their heartbeats race in the silence. It would be so easy to grab her hair, bite her lips, rip off the rest of those buttons on her shirt, he could almost hear the sound the thread would make as it tears and the buttons bounce on his floor…

Suddenly, he realized that he'd gotten caught up in the moment and kissed her earlobe lightly as he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She wrapped her arms around him for a hug as his hands meandered around her waist. "I'll accept your apology on a condition."

"What's that?"

"I don't know, I haven't thought of it yet."

He laughed, drawing back. "Very well, I suppose that's fair."

Suddenly, her eyes widened as they found something behind him and he cringed as he realized what it was. She tore away from him and was already halfway to the hot tub when he barely managed to catch her before she jumped in. "Aww! Can we at least put our feet in?"

He sighed. "Fine, but if you drown, I'm going to be very cross with you."

He turned away for a moment to remove his shoes and when he turned back, she was sitting on the edge, her slacks soaking up to her knees. At least she didn't strip naked this time. She could've taken off those beautiful shoes though.

"So, dear detective, how are you feeling?" He sat down opposite her.

"Less dizzy." She kicked her feet underwater, staring at the multicolored lights he'd turned on. They reminded her of the sunset and the rain of the piano notes.

He seemed to have read her mind because he asked about earlier. "You said the music sounded like a… what was it, dear, a rain rainbow? A _rainnnnbow_?" He laughed, drawing out the n.

She laughed too, ignoring that he was trying to make fun of her. "Yes. I imagined, for a moment, that I was on a beautiful ship at sunset. The sky was all different colors that reflected in the water."

She spoke much more coherently now. Her burst of energy must've helped the drugs to start wearing off. She would soon be tired, he thought, and this whole spectacle of a night could be put to rest. He suddenly felt quite exhausted, and yet spellbound by her presence.

"The piano was like drops of water that disturbed the surface and mixed all the colors with their ripples. I felt… suspended and peaceful. I'm sorry, it must be the drugs, I must sound like a crazy person!"

"On the contrary, I find your description quite vivid and relatable." He was watching her intently.

"It's like… while the song played, there was just warmth and tranquility. Everything was beautiful. No pain, no fear, just the piano and your voice. It… it was really quite beautiful."

He was smiling now, that genuine smile she saw downstairs and barely remembered through the haze.

"Thank you for playing me that song. I hope I didn't put you on the spot. I'm sorry, my behavior this evening has been completely inappropriate… I'm so sorry!" she covered her face with her hands.

"Chloe," he interrupted, "I am thrilled to have had the privilege of playing for you. I only wish it were something you'd remember tomorrow."

"What if I try, really, really hard?"

He laughed. "It's quite alright, don't hurt yourself. Let this night be a… a nightmare turned into a dream, and perhaps I'll play for you again."

"I hope you do," she crooned, closing her eyes and returning for a moment to her vision. As she did so, she swayed a little and lost her balance, tumbling into the hot tub. He made a move to catch her, but she was too far and it was too late. As she stood up, they both burst out laughing.


	3. Chapter 3: The Balcony

**Chapter 3.**

Chloe climbed out of the hot tub, water draining from her soaked clothes. Standing up, she felt dizzy again. Perhaps the drugs weren't wearing off as quickly as she thought. As she struggled to unclasp the straps of her shoes, Lucifer came out from the hallway carrying a towel and some fresh clothes.

"I'm sorry," he said, "These appear to be all I have at the moment. This dress looked comfortable, and in case you don't like it, here are some of my pajamas." He set them down on the table and guided her to a chair.

"And I'm sorry for getting water all over your floor."

"Sit. That's very considerate of you, but I assure you that it's no problem at all." He knelt at her feet and easily slipped off her heels. _Pity,_ he thought, _what a beautiful pair of shoes. The suede will be ruined now._ He set them aside and looked up at her, hesitating a moment, adrift in the way she was looking back at him.

A cough broke their silence. Maze was standing in the doorway. She motioned for Lucifer to come join her so that Chloe wouldn't hear them.

"He's in the basement."

"Alive, I hope? I do so endeavor to have a chat." Lucifer snarled.

"Yes, though not necessarily unharmed." She replied coolly, her arms crossed.

"Watch her," he directed and Maze nodded.

He walked back over to Chloe. "Darling, there's something I have to take care of. I won't be long. Maze will stay with you. You know which way the shower is if you'd like to rinse off and change."

Chloe nodded, somewhat indignant that he thought she needed a babysitter, but glad that he cared enough to make sure she was safe. He left as she turned her attention to Maze, who walked behind the bar and made herself a drink.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want another?" Maze sneered, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. She hated Chloe for many reasons, but a part of her also felt protective, particularly because the sorry bastard downstairs dared to try to take advantage of a woman on her watch. She should've sniffed him out and cut him to pieces sooner.

"No, thank you, I think I've had enough. Though, I have to admit, the drink you made was quite good. Loved the flower."

Maze smirked. "Yeah, I thought you might."

"So, do you know who did it?"

Maze shifted her weight to her other foot, feeling out of place and angry about it. "I do now. Don't worry, he'll never do something like that again."

"It must've been someone who bumped into me while I was walking in the crowd. What'll happen to him?"

"He'll be handed over to the police… eventually." Maze made her way to a chair and sprawled out. "Go get changed, you're a soaking wet mess." She didn't say anything about the lipstick obviously smeared across Chloe's face, but looked her up and down with contempt.

Chloe obliged and disappeared to the bathroom. When she emerged, she was wearing the dress, having found that Lucifer's pajamas simply fell off of her. It was a long silk gown of sorts, quite comfortable, bunched at the waist and crisscrossing in the back. She also liked the ivory color. Walking barefoot across the floor, she noticed Maze fixing the amber vase, who turned around with a knowing smirk. "The lipstick, the vase, what _have_ you been up to, detective? Never mind, I don't care."

"Nothing."

"I said I don't care." She walked back to her chair and sat, watching Chloe with an amused expression.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Chloe asked, too frankly.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Maze retorted, not at all trying to hide her sarcasm.

Chloe sat down in a chair opposite her. "Okay, fine, I get it. I take up a lot of the boss's time."

"Time? You could ask him for anything and he'd come running like a stupid dog." Maze spat. "And why?"

"Okay, surely that's an—"

"You know that song he played for you tonight? He's never played it before. He's never played _like that_ before. It's disgusting. It's dripping all over him. And you lead him around by the nose, doing your dirty business—"

"That's quite enough." Lucifer appeared in the doorway looking disheveled and heated.

Maze gave him a long, meaningful glare, pursed her lips, and strode out, slamming her empty glass on the bar. He turned his attention to Chloe. "I see my pajamas were unsatisfactory."

"I couldn't quite get them to stay on."

He laughed. "Well, you look lovely in that dress."

She smiled and made an aggrandized hand gesture. "It makes me feel like royalty. Which I am."

"That you certainly are, dear." He trailed off to wash his hands in the bar sink, eager to get rid of any traces of blood. She could've guessed as much, but her mind was thankfully elsewhere. "Shall we cool off for a bit on the balcony?" he suggested.

She let him lead her outside by the hand. The skyline was full of twinkling lights against the dark sky. You couldn't see the stars from the city, but the lights in the office buildings glimmered a bit like modern, mechanical constellations. Somewhere in the distance, a melody was playing. Someone was having a party on a rooftop nearby. The air was warm and seemed to linger. "I've always loved the stars," Chloe spoke first, leaning on the railing and looking out over the city.

"I didn't take you for an astronomy enthusiast, detective."

She laughed. "I doubt I could call myself that, but it's always fascinated me. So many others galaxies out there… do you believe in aliens?"

"Aliens, _really_?" He looked at her. "As it just so happens, I don't have to believe, I know."

"Oh, right, right, because you're the king of hell!" she mused. "Enlighten me."

He ignored her remark and continued. "Yes, of course yours isn't the only planet infested with life in this magnificent universe. How pompous of humanity to assume so."

She giggled at the seriousness of his tone, looking him over. "Dance with me, then, oh king of hell. I want to have a hell of a night to not remember."

He held out his hand and drew her closer. The night was winding down, and the sun would soon rise. The first rays of dawn were beginning to sprout from the horizon. She placed her head on his shoulder, both of them too tired to try to think anymore. He wrapped her hand in his and brought it to his chest, rocking them gently to the faint rhythm. As they turned, he looked out into the sky. Of all the places to be, he could've never predicted he would ever be here, dancing on a rooftop with a woman he'd never even kissed. So content in such an ordinary moment, so _thrilled_ by such conventional things as the smell of her hair and the weight of her hand. He thought back to what she said about feeling suspended in a sunset at sea. The music painted such a beautiful picture for her, as she now painted for him. What a wondrous being. A human! He'd thought them so far beneath him that he gave up paradise to stand by his beliefs, and here in one small moment, all of his theory proved wrong. He suddenly felt overwhelmed with remorse and awe, wrath and compassion, all at the same time, spinning his head and making him want to set everything on fire and forget.

"Luci? Is everything okay?"

He looked at her examining him quizzically. "Of course, why wouldn't it be?"

"You stopped dancing."

"Apologies, darling."

"It's alright. I'm quite tired. You must be, too. I'm feeling much better, so maybe we can go to sleep now?"

"I must say, you have the metabolism of a lioness. I've never seen someone recover so quickly, especially someone so small."

She laughed, ending on a hum, and leaned against him again. "Out of terrible circumstances, I've somehow had a lovely evening. I'm sorry that I've inconvenienced you and taken over your entire—"

"I have also had," he cut her short, "the most wonderful time. Your company is always welcome, though the circumstances of tonight are not." With a tinge of sadness that every night must come to an end, no matter how much we don't want it to, he stroked her hair, relishing in one last glance at the rising sun.

"I wish I could remember this tomorrow," she said sadly. "Maybe I will. But maybe I'll forget it all like a wonderful dream. Will you remind me?"

"You may not wish to remember tomorrow."

"What if I do?"

"Then I'll tell you whatever you wish to know."

"Carry me to bed."

"As you wish."

He scooped her up and turned his back on the sunrise, walking inside as she laughed and muttered. He carefully lay her down on his bed and turned to walk away when she pulled him back by his hand. He looked at her questioningly. "Yes?"

"I said I'd accept your apology on a condition."

He chuckled, surprised that she remembered this particular detail. "I take it you've thought of what you want?"

"…A kiss goodnight."

"Chloe…" his breath caught in his throat again, a sensation he still wasn't entirely familiar with.

"If I won't remember tomorrow, then what does it matter?"

"It matters because when you ask me and I tell you, I don't want it to be something you regret."

"I won't! But doesn't it feel like the only possible end to this strange fairytale evening? How often does something like this happen to you? It never happens to me. Never at all. Maybe I'll never feel this way again, and maybe I'll never feel brave enough to ask again. But once in my life…"

He stood dumbfounded by her request. He had expected that she would forget her clause, hoped that if she remembered, she would ask him for a favor, and feared that she would use it as a bargaining chip to stop him from breaking some rule or other. But a kiss? A kiss from the devil somehow seemed less than she deserved.

"Come on, you promised. …Oh. Um. Unless you don't… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

He threw his head back and looked at the ceiling for divine inspiration, then knelt down next to her. "Maybe I won't tell you about this."

"Deal." She giggled, dreamlike in the glow of the lights, and closed her eyes.

He searched her face as he ran his fingers down her cheek and behind her ear. Here was the devil on his knees, praying like a sinner before the most sacred of altars. He closed his eyes as he felt the heat radiating from her body and it seemed to him a vision of a light he'd long forgotten. As his lips just barely brushed hers, he sensed her reach up toward him, her mouth opening slightly with his. He froze for a moment, overtaken by the sensation of lightning shooting through his chest, before he pressed his mouth softly into hers. She whimpered faintly into him as he drew away and kissed her again. Finally, he left her lips and hovered above them, unable to will his own to move any farther. He'd kissed hundreds of women before, and men, and demons, and angels, but never once in his long life had he felt unable to move.

"Thank you," she muttered sweetly, and he finally snapped back to reality and propped himself up beside her. She was smiling, her eyes still closed as if she didn't want the next moment to alter her image of the previous one. He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Goodnight, detective."

As he walked away, she was already asleep. He felt adrift and detached from his usual self. Perhaps this was all a dream and he'd be the one waking up bewildered tomorrow morning. How empty he would feel then, he thought, absent-mindedly touching his lips.


	4. Chapter 4: The Next Morning

**Chapter 4.**

The next morning, Chloe awoke to a new pair of shoes staring at her. Beautiful strappy black suede… Louboutins? She sat up and immediately regretted doing so. Her head felt like a truck had driven directly into her face, then reversed and driven over it again. She groaned and fell back on the pillow, pulling the blanket over her eyes.

 _Wait a minute._ This wasn't her blanket. This wasn't her bed. _Oh no._

As her mind began to sort through a thousand worst-case scenarios, it quickly settled on The Worst… this was Lucifer's bed. She flung the blanket off of her body, wide-eyed. _Okay, okay, it's okay, I'm wearing clothes,_ she thought. _Not my clothes though._

She looked around. Her clothes were freshly pressed and hung on a hanger from the lamp above the shoes. _Are those for me?_ she thought, horrified by what he might be apologizing for with them. She examined them in her hands. Perfectly sized, beautiful red sole… Whatever it is, she wasn't about to give them back. Still, a feeling of uneasiness rose from deep within her stomach. She stumbled a few steps before she heard his voice.

"Ah, you're awake! I trust you've found your clothes."

"What the _hell_ happened?" she growled through her teeth. "Why am I in this dress? In your bed? Where are my shoes? And why does my head feel like… ohh," she knelt down and put her head between her hands. He wiped his hands on a towel and rushed to her side.

"Detective, detective… First of all, let me put your mind at ease, nothing happened."

She appreciated his honesty, recognizing that he could've easily taken advantage of her foggy memory to tease and tell her a grandiose lie. "I came here last night to…"

"Ah yes, here it is." He handed her some papers from his counter. "Freshly signed by the chief, as promised." She raised her eyebrow at him, grabbing the papers to examine. He wasn't lying this time.

"You had a drink," he continued. "Unfortunately, one of my patrons who is now a patron at your police station decided to add a little something extra while you weren't looking."

"My drink got _drugged?_ "

"Yes, and I am terribly sorry. That is not the kind of clientele I allow in my midst, I assure you…"

"It's not your fault."

"Yes, well, I feel at least partially responsible for the oversight. You must have the worst hangover of all time right about now. I've made you breakfast."

"Oh god. No. I can't look at food."

" _Not quite,"_ he muttered under his breath. "Fine, a smoothie then."

"Fine. So how did I end up… here?"

"Well, you begged me not to take you to a hospital, so Maze and I watched over you."

' _Like a stupid dog'_ She looked off into the distance, remembering Maze's annoyed voice from the night earlier. She wasn't sure what the rest of that conversation was like, though. "Thank you," she finally said with a puzzled look on her face. "You took care of me?"

"It's really no trouble."

"It must've been. I hope I didn't do anything terribly stupid."

He grinned, handing her a smoothie. "Oh, do I have some stories for you!"

 _There it was,_ she thought, _of course I wasn't going to get off without hearing about it._ She sighed and steeled herself for the upcoming barrage of embarrassing accounts.

"You fell into the hot tub. Well, climbed in first, really, with your shoes. I was really trying to watch out for you, but I couldn't save them, so I bought you new ones."

"Louboutins, that's really quite… I can't accept them."

"Don't be silly. I didn't know what brand yours were so I hoped perhaps you'd accept these as a suitable replacement."

"Suitable? They're only about $900 more than mine!"

He grinned. "Great, then it's settled! Oh, detective, I do hope you'll put them on for me sometime."

"Other clothing optional, I presume?" she teased. His eyes glowed and his grin widened. "Okay, what else?"

"Uhh… we nearly knocked over a vase, but no harm done."

"We? What were we doing?"

He retorted with the incredible speed of a man without a filter, "Don't worry about it."

"Lucifer!" a look of concern suddenly washed over her face and he felt a tinge of guilt for feeding her fears.

"Don't worry, nothing happened! I kissed your hand, or something like that." He looked away.

"You… kissed my hand?" she asked, confused.

"No need to dwell on it. Then we stood on the balcony for a while and I put you to bed. Which you hogged. Again."

She slumped down in a chair, nursing her smoothie and trying not to focus on her searing headache. "I suppose I should thank you, again, it was really very good of you to take care of me."

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, taking a seat on the sofa across from her.

"It's funny, I had these really weird dreams…" she began. His eyes widened ever so slightly. "They were silly, really." _I remember you…_

"No, please do tell! How fascinating your mind must be in the night."

"Ha!" she rolled her eyes. "No, there was… music." _You're the one who made my dreams come true…_

"Music?"

"Yeah, like… heh, I guess you were playing piano in my dream." _I remember you…_

"Was I any good?"

"Fantastic, as always. It was a sugary melody, and it reminded me of a sunset… or something? How odd. All different colors." _I remember too, a distant bell, and stars that fell like rain out of the blue…_

He nodded, eyes twinkling with curiosity. "How odd indeed!"

"And then… it's all very confusing. Then…" she stopped, laughing. "We danced on the balcony at sunrise! Can you believe it? That drug must've been laced with pixie dust."

He forced a laugh as well. "Yes, how very implausible!"

"I remember feeling scared. Scared… well, at first, because my head was spinning so much, but then you… you carried me up to your place?"

"I may have."

Her face scrunched in skepticism. "Then, I wasn't scared. And then I was scared again, but this time… I've forgotten why," she said with a trace of sadness.

"Best not to think of it, then. You're safe now, that's what matters."

She nodded. "Thank you."

They sat like that for a while. It was a weekend and Chloe didn't have to worry about calling in sick for work. Eventually, she went off to get dressed and came out looking pristinely put together, carrying the shoes in hand.

"Darling, you're going to have to walk out of here in _some_ thing."

"I know, but they're so extravagant. I really can't…"

"Nonsense. Think nothing of it. They are a gift for a dear friend, not an obligation of any sort."

She shifted her weight, torn between incredulity and the shoes she's always wanted. Finally, she deigned to put them on and took a seat to do so. Her feet slipped into them faultlessly. _Surprisingly comfortable for heels,_ she thought. As she stood up, she noticed Lucifer's eyes watching her and gestured at him. He seemed startled before regaining his composure.

"My, my, you're a sight to behold," he beamed.

"Yeah?" she spun around, unable to help her own grin. "I guess they're _okay…_ "

"If that's how you feel, give them back!" he tormented.

"Nope! You're never getting these back!" she laughed and turned to make her way toward the exit. She stopped halfway, though, and placed a hand on the bar. Without looking back, she asked hesitantly, "All these crazy dreams I had, they didn't actually happen, did they?"

He watched her, amused and slightly frightened by what his answer might open her mind to. "What if they did?"

She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. _"Did they?"_

"I promised I would tell you, I suppose, but look, it's really nothing…"

"We danced on the balcony? At sunrise?" her tone heightened with amusement.

"Only for a moment. You _really_ wanted to."

"Oh, _I_ really wanted to! …Man, actually, I must've been a handful. I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Oh well. At least nothing happened."

"Yes, indeed." He chimed. She could've sworn he was avoiding her eyes, but decided that she was just imagining things because of her fatigue. He watched as she walked out, somehow feeling fulfilled and famished at the same time.


	5. Chapter 5: The Regression

Chapter 5.

On the first day that she didn't call, Lucifer wondered if she remembered everything and was avoiding him. He frowned in the mirror, adjusting his tie. _No need to be dramatic_. There was work to be done. Clients to meet with, deals to make, meddling angels to avoid.

On the second day that she didn't call, he wondered if she was okay, but quickly brushed away the thought. He poured himself a scotch and stared into the glass. He wasn't her babysitter. He had matters of life and death, heaven and hell to attend to. Like mummy dearest. He quickly brushed away that thought too.

On the fifth day that she didn't call, he wondered if there simply wasn't anything interesting going on at the police station. It's not such a far stretch of the imagination that a murder hadn't been committed in the past few days, even in this city. He briefly thought about going out and finding one himself. He didn't actually need _her_. He could get into trouble all on his own. In fact, it was his specialty. He put on a white button-down and a bowtie, like the day he burned his wings on the beach, and reminded himself that he was in charge of his own destiny.

That night with Chloe left him feeling remarkably out of character. _The devil doesn't dance on balconies like some sort of sap,_ he thought, straightening his bowtie in the mirror. _And the devil doesn't kneel… unless it's between someone's legs._ He chuckled, proud of that thought. As he checked to make sure each button was perfectly in place, he felt like he was zipping up all the dissonance on the inside which had so been bothering him the past couple of days. He beamed at his own reflection, satisfied with what he saw. A _handsome_ devil. The ladies downstairs would agree when the club opens.

He took his time descending to the bar, fixing his diamond-encrusted cufflinks on the ride. Maze gave him an approving nod upon seeing him come out of the elevator. He sat down at the bar where a drink was already waiting for him.

"You're looking better today."

He glanced up at her with a bored expression and watched her dry a couple of glasses. "Anyone interesting on the guest list?"

"The managers of the strip club down 5th, a local singing sensation, the Britneys, a couple of government officials, and our usual wealthy housewives, of course."

"See to it that the entertainment is arranged appropriately."

"Already done."

He turned his back to the bar and stared absent-mindedly as the staff turned on the party lights and music, preparing for opening.

Maze's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "It's so banal of you to sulk. Disgusting."

"Excuse me?"

"It seems the lowly human has messed with your mind again. Half the time, I don't even know who you are supposed to be anymore." Maze never spoke kindly, but tonight her tone was particularly contemptuous.

"It seems you might be forgetting who you are and what your _place_ is," he barked back.

The front doors opened and guests flooded in. Lucifer was eager to drown his vexatious thoughts in the crowd as he made his way from one group to another, flattering and charming each in turn. Before long, there were several women on his arm and he felt familiar comfort in their sequined dresses and shiny heels. Glasses clinked and confetti fell. Somewhere, his phone rang, but he didn't look at it.

By midnight, he was sitting on a couch in the middle of the club watching Tiffany take shots off of Allyson on his lap. Jasmine's long red nails dug into his chin as she turned his head toward her and breathed smoke into his mouth. He closed his eyes for a moment. Hands snaked their way into his jacket and up his shirt, leaving his bowtie hanging open on both sides. Lips traced his neck, leaving tiny imprints of lipstick behind. Teeth nipped at his jaw. He put his arms around the two closest girls, feeling the cool of their skin under his fingertips. They giggled and sighed, whispering dirty things in his ears. "Lucifer…" They weren't particularly creative, but they sure put effort into trying. He imagined the champagne bubbling over and the dancers spinning on their poles, and a sunrise… "Lucifer!" He suddenly sat up, startling the girls, to find the famed detective standing in front of him with her arms crossed.

"I've been calling you." The girls were now eyeing her with possessiveness. He always made her feel so special when she came to the club, like she was his most prized guest, but tonight he seemed to purposefully want to make her feel small.

"Have you? I hadn't noticed. This past week's just been so busy, darling, surely you understand…"

"Well, I'm sorry to have bothered you then! There's a case." The girl resumed their coddling of him, much to her annoyance.

He looked at the women around him and discovered a biting impulse somewhere deep inside. "Perhaps tomorrow, detective, I'm a little busy at the moment."

She threw her hands up in the air. "You know what, you're the one that asked me to let you tag along. I don't care! Stay here if that's what you want. Bye!"

She turned on her heel and stormed past the crowd, half expecting him to jump up and chase her. When he didn't, her anger flared even hotter. _Five days sleazing around with half the women in this city not enough for you, you prick? Five days and you couldn't call me once? I can't believe I actually came down here, like I needed confirmation._ She pushed her way past the bouncers and an unsettling sideways vision of the club from the piano which sprung in her memory like an intrusive reminder of something.


	6. Chapter 6: The Party

Chapter 6.

The next morning, Chloe sat at her desk, impatiently twirling a pencil as she read over stacks of case files. It was gray and raining outside and everything annoyed her, especially the latte that suddenly appeared on top of her papers. She followed the arm holding it to a grinning self-important man and scowled. "Look who finally decided to show up!"

His grin faded momentarily, but was quickly replaced by a signature charming smile. "Oh come now, detective. It's a beautiful day for a murder investigation!"

"Oh?" She raised her eyebrows and leaned back in her chair. "That's funny, see, here I thought you weren't interested."

"I didn't say that!" He pulled up a chair without invitation, making a most irritating screeching noise as the wood scraped against the floor. Acting completely oblivious to his surroundings, he grabbed some papers from the top of the pile. " _Ooh,_ a drug peddler tied up and—oh my—"

She yanked the papers out of his hand. "These are _mine,_ and you'll come when you're _told_ or not at all."

She glared at him silently for a moment as his eyes widened and her heart sank. The corners of his mouth turned up in a wicked grin before she could fix her mistake. "Why, detective, I always knew you were into that sort of thing!"

She stubbornly stared him down and he matched her gaze with a smolder for several silent seconds before they both burst out laughing.

"Alright," she spoke first, choosing to momentarily ignore the anger that the image of him surrounded by the women at his club brought up. "Fine. You got me. You jackass. I was calling to tell you yesterday that there's a party happening tonight for which you might be useful—"

"You need me to procure an invitation?" He perked up.

"No," she pursed her lips, "I need a partner to go with me undercover. Ms. Lola Saffrynth already has an invitation."

"Could you have _possibly_ chosen a name more akin to a stripper?" he frowned. She shot him a glare. "Fine, fine. I take it you need a Mr. S to accompany you?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself. You're likely to be recognized in a crowd like this, so you go as you, and I as your elusive date."

"How interesting this event is starting to sound!" He grinned, envisioning a lavish party with flashy music and glittery dancers where the detective will swoon and laugh at his jokes and cling to his arm as they drink champagne.

"It's at the Bordeaux mansion up in the hills. We think the drug dealer was working for a distributor who'll be attending. Lots of nasty clientele, but if we can get to his phone, we should be able to download his contacts and get some more leads."

"Fascinating. Where is all this information coming from?"

She hesitated. "Actually, from the guy at your club the other day." Lucifer's expression turned indiscernible for a moment. "It's funny, when I got to work, he was more than willing to cooperate. He gave us the name of his dealer, the address, the details, everything we wanted to know. The chief kicked me out of the questioning room when he clung to my feet and started crying personal apologies, though. You wouldn't know anything about that, _would you?"_

Lucifer remained silent and serious, so Chloe awkwardly continued babbling. "Listen, uh… thanks again for not telling anyone. I said I had no idea what he was talking about and, well, you saved me a paperwork nightmare." _And worse things._

He looked her right in the eye as he said in the most serious tone she'd ever heard from him, "I would never let you come to any harm."

Her chest tightened. Whether or not she'd admit it, it was nice to feel protected by a powerful man like Lucifer. She didn't know where his influence came from or what he was capable of, but she knew he was a valuable ally. That's why she felt so special, she told herself. _No, scratch that, I'm not special. There's nothing special going on here. Stop it._ "Right. Well, anyway, I'll meet you at your place at 7?"

He nodded, getting up.

"And listen, there have been several reports of drug overdoses around the city in the past few days. The chief thinks they're unrelated, but I have a nasty feeling something bigger is going on."

Lucifer looked intrigued, but before he could say anything, an intern tapped Chloe on the shoulder to ask about paperwork. When she turned back around, he was gone.

Several hours later, Chloe walked up to the doors of Lux with rare confidence. She wore a long yellow silk gown, draped effusively over her chest, with an elegant slit that allowed her to walk freely. It also helped her hide a gun in her garter. A Y chain necklace hung around her neck and disappeared between her breasts. She wore her hair wavy with a strand falling into her face, which she hated, but the stylist said it was just the thing. Several gold rings adorned her fingers and the heels of her Louboutins made such a satisfying click on the wet pavement. The bouncers instantly moved out of her way.

The doors opened before her and she took two steps in before she noticed Lucifer among a troop of girls in the center. She decided to embrace her alter ego and strode up confidently to the crowd before running her fingers down the lapel of his jacket. He turned around, stunned by her surprising demeanor and briefly at a loss for words.

"I'm Lola," she said, "and you should get me a glass of champagne."

"Lola," he purred and looked her up and down, "charmed to make your acquaintance." Her dress draped her body perfectly, hugging and forgetting just enough curves in turn. Her hair was loose, but carefully done. It reminded him of a golden age Hollywood star, and the way she left her lips slightly open, appearing breathless and aloof. His eyes paused a moment longer on her shoes and he felt a tinge of gratification that she chose to wear them. He waved his hands for the other girls to scatter as his eyes traveled back up her body, noting that there was likely a weapon hidden somewhere, but not in the bra because she wasn't wearing one. He motioned at the waiter to bring them a drink.

"I'm afraid I need to ask you a favor, Mr…"

"Morningstar." He watched her every move with great precision, eyes sparkling with curiosity. Her persistence with this character greatly interested him.

"Mr. Morningstar. You see, I'm in a predicament. I've been invited to a party and I have no date!"

He gasped. "An inexcusable oversight on the part of the male population! Please allow me the pleasure of correcting it."

The champagne arrived in two delicate flutes, so thin that Chloe thought she might accidentally snap the one in her hand. The golden lights reflected in the effervescent bubbles traveling up the inside and the drops of condensation making their way down the outside. They clinked glasses in a toast and the sound reverberated through the music. She drank the champagne quickly, then leaned close to his face. "We really must go, Mr. Morningstar."

"After you," he mewled.

The bouncers held open the doors while they walked past. A limousine was waiting out front. When they climbed inside, he assumed she would've found the pretense tiresome and addressed her plainly. "Detective, that gown is very fetching. And I couldn't help but notice your magnificent shoes."

She smiled alluringly, having too much fun to let him drop it, and placed her feet on his lap. "Why, these shoes, Mr. Morningstar?"

He eyed her with skepticism, but quickly picked up the game, running a hand down her shin and picking up her heel with the other. "You have such impeccable taste!"

She broke free of his grasp and put her heel against his chest, pushing him to the opposite side. "I know."

He looked down at the heel digging slightly into his shirt, then slowly followed the leg up to her face, staring her silently in the eye. His arms were spread on the back of the leather seats around him and his eyes were slightly narrowed, like he was preparing for something. Like he might brush aside her shoe and be at her throat in la fraction of a second. She felt her pulse quicken. He could always somehow read thoughts like that one. She avoided his face where she figured she would find a smirk now. Perhaps Lola would've had her way with this man right in the back of this limo, she thought, but just then the driver brought the car to a stop. Lucifer didn't move or speak until she put her foot down. For a second, she got scared that she'd offended him, but he caught the look in her eye and winked as he climbed out and held out his hand. She took a moment to compose herself. As she emerged, she saw that they were standing in front of an enormous property. There were armed guards on the corners and a butler escorted them up the steps. "Names please?" one of the guards asked.

"Lucifer Morningstar and Lola Saffrynth," he flashed his million dollar smile and led her inside. The hall opened up to a large ballroom lit by countless crystal chandeliers. The fractals from them reflected around the room like a posh version of party lights. There were matching sconces on the walls and a string quartet playing in the corner. Accompanying them was a beautiful blonde woman at a grand piano. They found themselves in the middle of a black and white marble dance floor.

The crowd was exceptionally dressed. The men wore large rings on their fingers and expensive watches to show off their wealth. Those who weren't particularly old and gaudy looked immaculate in their tailored three-piece suits. The women adorned the most elaborate gowns Chloe had ever seen, with gemstones the size of plastic diamonds that Trixie used in her art projects for school. Surely those couldn't all be real. These must've been a billion dollars in jewelry in this room alone. She suddenly felt underdressed and out of place.

Lucifer must've sensed her discomfort as he slunk a hand around the small of her back and leaned close to her ear. "I wonder, Ms. Lola, if you are aware that you are the most exquisite woman here." He spun her effortlessly to the music.

 _Flattery_ , she thought, and avoided his gaze so close to her, feeling unusually nervous.

"May I get you some liquid courage, darling?"

Before she could respond, he grabbed two glasses of champagne from a nearby server. She took one and glanced around the room. She couldn't see the supplier, but remembering why she was there helped her regain her confidence. "We need to find the target," she whispered. "Let's split up."

He nodded and let her disappear into the bustling crowd. She made her way around the grand ballroom to the adjacent sitting rooms. In the third one, she felt someone place a hand on her shoulder blade.

"Are you looking for someone?" It was a handsome man in his late thirties, dressed in a suit with silk lapels. Undoubtedly very expensive.

"My date," she replied, turning away from him.

"Then perhaps I can keep you company until the poor fool that made the mistake of losing you… finds you."

She eyed him sideways, but decided that telling him to get lost might not be best for her cover. "Very well, Mr…"

"Hallston. And what lovely name might I call you by?"

"Lola." He kissed her hand, making a charming but pretentious bow.

"What do you do, Mr. Hallston?"

He chuckled. "I'm a chemist. Well, a businessman, really. I own Hallston Labs."

Chloe almost choked on her champagne. Hallston Labs was one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the state. She turned towards him and smiled. "I'm afraid I don't know much about chemistry. It must be fascinating." Unbeknownst to her, Lucifer had made his way into the same room and was now watching her with amusement.

"It is," Hallston chimed, "but not as fascinating as the extraordinary woman in the yellow dress whom I've never seen here before. What is it that _you_ do, Ms. Lola?"

She laughed nervously. "I'm uh…"

"A movie star! In Monaco. My dear man, haven't you ever heard of it?" Lucifer came to her rescue, placing an arm around his pretend date.

"Ah, Mr. Morningstar. I didn't realize Lola was here with you." Hallston seemed unnerved suddenly and quickly made his exit. "I wish you two a wonderful night."

Lucifer turned to Chloe. "Lola, _darling,_ so glad I found you."

She smiled and handed him her empty glass. Suddenly, several men walked past the room in the hallway. She identified one of them was the distributor she was after. Lucifer followed her gaze. They were headed to another part of the house. He set down their glasses and followed her out of the room.

The hallway was lit by candelabras. They snuck carefully behind the distributor and his bodyguards and stopped outside of a room they were gathering in. They could hear them talking about a deal.

"You're raising the price again?" a man's voice said. No answer. "Ridiculous. I won't have it."

Swiftly, the sound of a gun being cocked echoed in the empty space.

"Fine, fine. But can you guarantee that my employees won't end up like your—"

"I make no guarantees, my friend, only a request. If you should think about revealing my name… reconsider." This voice was deep and calm, unlike the other.

Chloe and Lucifer ducked into a dark room as the security spewed out, followed by their leader. Footsteps echoed down the hallway as they waited in silence. As the footsteps grew distant, Chloe tiptoed out toward the room where the deal took place. Lucifer reluctantly followed her.

"Are you quite sure this is a good idea?" he whispered. His consonants bounced off the marble floors and echoed around the maze of hallways as she glared at him to be silent. "I'd rather not get shot today," he added in a breathier tone that melded with the dim glow of the wallchieres that lit the hall. She ignored him and pushed open a heavy wooden door, creeping inside. They found themselves in what looked like an office. In the middle, there was an ornate mahogany desk elaborately carved with accents of foliage and scenes. It could've been fit for a president or a queen (and quite possibly was at some point), she thought. On top lay only a couple of opulent-looking pens, miscellaneous office supplies, and an old-style wired phone. Lucifer stood at the other end of the room, arms folded. He eyed the desk with his signature look of disinclination.

Chloe made her way around to the other side, which contained six drawers, three on each side. Her long fingers slid over the elegant handles and she tugged, hoping to discover something useful inside. Unfortunately, she found all of the drawers locked. She looked up at Lucifer and gestured questioningly, irritated by his lack of assistance. Had he just been standing there the whole time? Sometimes she wondered what exactly the use of bringing him along was supposed to be. "Can you pick a lock?"

Lucifer scoffed and moseyed across the room. "Can I pick a lock? Move aside." He knelt down on eye level with the drawers, fumbling with pins that seemed to appear out of nowhere in his hands. Chloe watched him jiggle the first lock for several seconds until it popped open. She immediately started ruffling through the papers in the drawer while he worked on the rest. Using the flashlight on her phone, she saw that the papers contained some travel itineraries and receipts. She eagerly looked through the rest of the drawers, but found nothing much more helpful than rich people stationery. As she got through the first five, she noticed that the pins had disappeared from Lucifer's hands and his fingers were now tracing the outline of the drawer. It seemed to contain a different lock. She heard him sigh in frustration.

Finally, he found a panel that unlocked the drawer. He scooped out and handed her the only item inside, an envelope. Suddenly, they heard footsteps at the end of the hallway outside.

Chloe quickly dug out the letter and took photos on her phone, not bothering to read any of it, then stuffed it back and locked the drawer again. She frantically looked around the room, but short of climbing under the desk where they would surely be discovered, there was nowhere to hide and no other way out. She looked at Lucifer, wide-eyed, ready to draw her gun. Security in the mansion greatly outnumbered them and if it came to a fight, they didn't stand a chance. She knew this in the back of her mind as adrenaline pumped through her veins and she hoped that Lucifer could come up with a better plan.

"Sit." Lucifer pointed at the desk, measuring the angles of the room with his eyes. In this strain of the moment, his voice was calm and powerful. Chloe obeyed without a thought and slid onto the desk. She wondered where his mind had raced off to. Through her pounding heartbeat, she was glad that in this instance, it ran farther than hers.

"Now, kindly spread your legs and uh, make a show."

" _Wh…what?"_ Confused, she looked down at him crouching below. Her mind was completely preoccupied with the acute awareness that the footsteps were drawing closer.

He rolled his eyes and centered himself with her, gauging how explicit to make his explanation. "Pretend that you have the _exquisite_ pleasure of my mouth at your disposal." His hands absent-mindedly brushed aside the slit of her dress, nudging her knees apart. There wasn't enough time to explain that he had no actual plans of taking advantage of the situation.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" she shifted anxiously on the desk, her breathing growing shallow with the urgency rushing through her veins. She was ready to bolt or fight her way out and her brain had considered no alternatives, but his plan seemed to involve neither.

"For heaven's sake, woman, do you need _inspiration?"_ He stared expressly into her eyes and slid his palms further up her smooth thighs in a sort of cautionary clarification. As the footsteps grew closer, he removed his hands and gripped the desk on either side of her. She muttered a faint _"ahhh,"_ partially due to the unexpected warmth of his grasp on her legs and partially because she was finally tuning in to his scheme. He made sure she saw his smug smile before burying his face beneath her dress. Although their situation was menacing (especially considering this recent mortality development, he thought), he wouldn't be him if he didn't find a way to extract some satisfaction from it.

She noticed with both relief and subconscious frustration that he maintained a mindful distance as much as possible, keeping his warm breath at the level of her mid-thigh. Despite that, Chloe didn't need much inspiration from this angle with his head between her legs. As her attention began to drift, she must've grown quiet for a second because his teeth nipped encouragingly at her skin until a moan escaped her lips. She wrapped her legs around his shoulders and tangled the fingers of her left hand in his thick hair, throwing her head back. "Oooh, oh, mmm…"

In a magnificent accent to the unfolding melodrama, her right hand knocked over a glass paperweight just as the lights flashed on. It smashed to pieces, which bounced around the floor as the guard stood stupefied in the doorway. The sound of the glass sprang off the walls and she felt Lucifer chuckle in approval against her skin. The guard was a brutish-looking man with a stone-faced expression and his hand on his holster. He stared at them for a moment before speaking into his earpiece in an annoyed tone, "All clear. Just a couple of lost guests." Then, he turned to address them. "This room is off limits."

Chloe feigned a dramatic gasp, appearing flustered. Lucifer managed to place one brief covert kiss on her knee before standing up. He flashed the man a smile. "Sure thing, chief. Terribly sorry." Without breaking eye contact with the guard, he reached behind her waist and pulled her off the desk into him, sliding his hand down to squeeze her. The back wall absorbed her look of indignant surprise before her thoughts caught up and reminded her that this would encourage the guard to ask fewer questions. "Come on, sweetheart. There's bound to be another dark room around here somewhere."

The guard watched as Lucifer ushered Chloe out. They clasped hands in the hallway, making it a point to stumble and giggle to appear intoxicated. When they rounded a corner and cleared from his view, they struggled to suppress their laughter, adrenaline starting to slow down its whirlwind through their systems and making them feel slightly lightheaded.

They made their way out of the party and plopped into the limousine waiting to take them away. Lucifer sat opposite her with his legs crossed and one arm up on the leather seat, watching while she flipped through the photos she took. He could see that she was flushed and flustered and it amused him almost as greatly as her avoiding looking at him.

Suddenly, her expression turned serious. "Driver, take us to my house," she instructed.

"What, you forgot to ask Trixie to take some prom photos?" Lucifer teased.

"No, the letter," she answered dismissively. "Trixie is at her grandparents' tonight and I need you to look at this with me."

"What is it?" He sat up.

"I can't read anything but tomorrow's date."


	7. Chapter 7: The Middle of the Night

Hello lovely readers! Thank you all for your support. I love reading your reviews. Keep them coming and tell me what you want to see more or less of. I try to balance feels with naughtiness and switch between the characters' perspectives. I might have to bump this story up in rating soon, though, would that be okay with everyone? Or maybe I'll write a separate naughtier version and leave this one vaguely worded. Anyway, thanks again for reading!

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Chapter 7.

As the limo drove away, Chloe turned on the kitchen lights and Lucifer followed her inside. She stepped tentatively, as if afraid to wake Trixie out of habit, but the house was empty and still. And cold. She rushed to turn on the thermostat before her dress could betray her. That is _definitely_ something he would notice, she thought, trying to cover her chest.

He was leaning on her kitchen counter, watching her silently. She suddenly felt anxious and stumbled over her words as she spoke in his general direction. "Right. So. I'm gonna go change… there's wine in the rack and, uh, help yourself to whatever you'd like, or whatever. I'm just gonna, um, I'll be out in a just a minute… yeah. Okay." Much to her distress, he continued to listen pensively, giving no indication as to his thoughts or mood. He just stood there, hand on the counter, eyes dark and indistinguishable. What an infuriatingly excellent poker face he had! Was he thinking about earlier? Because she was thinking about earlier, now. How thick and silky his hair felt in her hand, how she could almost still feel it, how she wanted to yank it and pull him closer to her… _Whoa. Whoa there._ Wide-eyed, she glanced up as their eyes met and immediately looked away. She had lingered a little too long and consequently ran upstairs a little too quickly.

When she was gone, Lucifer surveyed his surroundings. Her living room would do for the late night casework, surely, but it needed some light. His eyes fell upon several table and floor lamps, which he walked over to and turned on, giving the room a less fluorescent glow. He was trying to decipher why she was acting so strangely just now as he walked back to the kitchen to look through her wine rack. The glint in her eyes also haunted his thoughts. It was there, wasn't it? A little spark of desire that he saw glimmer and disappear several times throughout the night. Was it desire? Or was it something else? Annoyance, perhaps? Anger? She so frequently responded to his advances with anger, it was statistically much more likely. Or maybe Lola was just a really good actress and the sparkle was a part of her facade. Was it Lola's eyes her saw it in or Chloe's? He frowned. He'd never had this much trouble reading a woman before. _I mean, they just tell me what they want when I ask._

He sighed and suddenly remembered he was holding a wine bottle in his hand. Though not as lavish as he was used to, Chloe had good taste. She liked her dark reds – the cabernets, the zinfandels – and she was consistent about it. Based on this, he extrapolated that she would like her steaks closer to rare and her chocolate dark, a woman after his own taste. She had a fire within her, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. It was one of the things that intrigued him most about her. She worked a dangerous job, and yet she was always so composed. She organized and prioritized and overworked and obsessed, and yet she would drop everything and move mountains for her child. Her style was practical and sensible, but she wore that yellow dress tonight with substantially more charisma than the high society which she was trying to emulate.

Lucifer popped off the cork and took out a couple of glasses.

Meanwhile, Chloe breathed a sigh of relief when she was finally alone in her bedroom. _What was that? Did that seriously just happen?!_ She concluded that her alter ego must've worn her out. Pretending to be charming around so many unfamiliar and judgmental people really took it out of her, especially when they almost got caught. Though, something inside her admitted, it was such an addicting rush of adrenaline. Being Lola for a night was exhilarating. Lola didn't constantly worry about how other people perceived her. Lola did what she felt like and took what she wanted. Chloe wished she could be more like her sometimes. It was a part of her, deep inside, that she almost never let out. It scratched at her insides and taking it for a walk made it easier to manage the rest of the time. _Like now, when it is no longer appropriate._

She walked up to her mirror and took herself in. Her hair was slightly tussled now and her lipstick had faded, probably left behind on champagne glasses. She took it out of her clutch and reapplied, if for no other reason than to fix the imperfection. She put it back and reached over her shoulders for the zipper.

Downstairs, Lucifer scrolled through his phone. When he grew bored of the various messages vying for his attention, he yawned and remembered why they were here. She had the letter in her purse upstairs. She said she couldn't read it. What does that mean? It's not in English? Fortunately, he had many centuries to learn the languages this world kept inventing. If it was a matter of translation, their work would be over in a matter of minutes. He looked at the clock. She'd been gone for over 20 now. What was taking so long?

Back in her bedroom, Chloe was exasperated. She tugged and pulled at the dress in 10 different directions, but the zipper had apparently bought real estate in to the middle of her shoulder blades and refused to move. She clawed at it desperately, accidentally scratching her skin, and hissed. _Great. Juuust what I needed._ She rolled her eyes and threw her head up to the ceiling in defeat. There was no other escape from this prison of a garment, was there? "Lucifer!"

He appeared at the doorway of her bedroom, wine glass in hand. She looked helplessly at his reflection in her mirror as his eyes found her zipper and he made an amused sympathetic face, trying not to laugh. "Having some trouble, detective?"

She sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. When he didn't move from her doorway, she turned to look at him over her shoulder. "Will you _please_ for the love of—"

" _Of course."_

He put his wine glass down on a small accent table and made his way toward her as she turned back around. He was a magician with ladies' garments, he thought smugly. Sure enough, the zipper glided effortlessly in his hands. He could've probably stopped at her waist, but what would be the fun in that? And fun was something he was comfortable with, so he stepped closer to her as he zipped it all the way down, catching a glimpse of black lace underneath. She stood motionless in front of him as his hand slid back up her skin and found the claw marks around where the zipper used to be. His face contorted slightly, eyeing the redness. It wasn't much, but the streaks stood out against her alabaster skin. He brushed his fingertips over it absent-mindedly, as if that would fix it.

She shuddered at his touch, and suddenly they both became attuned to the stillness of the room bathing in the soft glow of the lamp. His hands were warm and his fingertips just barely brushed her skin, sending goosebumps up her arms. They stood in silence for a moment. It seemed like an hour to her. He must've noticed the goosebumps because he put his hands on her shoulders and slid them down her arms. She could hear her heart accelerate and her thoughts start to tangle. It was as if the room around them blurred into the distance and everything zoomed in on where his hands were touching her. He drew them back up her arms to her shoulders, pausing there a moment. He could hear her breath through the silence, feel the heat radiating off of her skin. With any other person, he would've known with unwavering certainty that she wanted him to take this dress off of her, but with her, he was afraid what it would mean if he did. After what felt like an eternity, his right hand pushed the strap of her dress over the curve of her shoulder. As it slid down, the part of her that opened up to him was smooth as silk and he wanted so badly to taste it. But… what would happen tomorrow if he let himself tonight? Tomorrow didn't often concern him, yet here he suddenly felt so profoundly sad at the thought that she might not be in it.

Their eyes met in the mirror and Chloe quickly wrapped her arms around her chest. He took a step back, then another. Had they gotten too close? Had the danger of revealing too much just narrowly been avoided, or was it too late? Could the moment be wrapped up in a pretty bow and put away with the rest on a shelf? Because if it couldn't, their lives might turn upside down.

"I see you've got it now, dear," he said, picking up his glass and backing away.

"Yes… thank you!" She laughed nervously, struggling to cover the tingling sensation that the silk of her gown now made against her awakened breasts.

He watched as she turned around and kept his eyes on her face out of an unfamiliar sense of politeness, but he noticed. He wasn't blind. He saw the way her body responded to him. It was truly like a flower blossoming in the spring. She was flushed and radiant and even more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. The air seemed to breathe her. He couldn't look away. It was the same air that was now caught in his throat. For a second, he thought he might be dying. He'd never felt this ridiculous before. _Truly a cruel lesson, father,_ he thought. Or perhaps it was kindness. Perhaps, after all these ages, his father wanted him to experience the beauty of his creation, and how overwhelming it was.

Chloe looked at him like she'd never seen him before. She knew he saw. She felt like he saw right through her, like she was an open book, open and naked and vulnerable, standing in the middle of a vast field in the rain. She stared at his lips while her mind frantically begged her to look away. What would it be like to taste them? Would he live up to his reputation? Would she suddenly understand why women flocked to him and sang his praises? Would he leave her the next morning like he discarded them? Would it be a pain that she could endure? She wanted so badly to be special, to be the one to change the bad boy, and that's the thought at which her heart sank. There is no changing the bad boy. The stories all lie. She knew that it spelled disaster. And yet, a part of her whispered that there's more to him, and maybe more to her, if she could just taste his lips, just once. Maybe they'd feel oddly familiar.

He stood in the doorway, on the brink of throwing aside his empty glass and running to cling desperately to her. He could think of nothing else. She was right there. And if they collided…

Chloe closed her eyes and summoned the last of her strength. "Here's the letter," she said, reaching into her purse and handing it to him. "Please tell me if you can translate it tomorrow."

"I will," he said eagerly, grateful for the piece of paper that broke this dangerous spell he couldn't interrupt.

That was it. That was all she could do. She stood watching him take the letter and prayed he would have the strength to walk away, because she didn't.

And he came through. He smiled politely and said, "Perhaps I should be going."

She nodded. "Yes, it's rather late… sorry for dragging you all the way out here…"

"No, please don't apologize, detective. I've had the most delightful evening."

They walked downstairs and he bowed on his way out the door. She shut it behind him and leaned back against it, holding her dress up with her hands. There were parts of her soul she kept all to herself, some of which she'd only ever shown to Dan, and look how that turned out. She wasn't willing to let the pieces fall and pick them back up all over again. The walls had to stay in place so she could stay in one piece and function like a normal human being. This moment just now, it burned too close. It threatened the delicate equilibrium. It made her afraid, and simultaneously excited. Hungry, like an addict, like an adventurer running to see what was behind a turn in the road. Nonetheless, she had to keep it together. For Trixie. For her work. For everyone. She buried her face in her hands, letting the dress fall to the floor. The warmth of his hands seared into her flesh and the image of him kneeling before her burned behind her eyes. _Truly a devil's temptation._ Frustrated tears began to fall down her cheeks.


	8. Chapter 8: The Dream

Hello, dear readers! I've decided that it'll be easier just to change the rating and not write separate chapters since most of you will probably be curious about the more explicit version anyway and it'll be an annoyance to have to go to a different story for it. I don't think I'm capable of writing super explicitly anyway, and the past chapters have already toed the line between the ratings, so… please be sure you're old enough to be reading this. With that in mind, it's not going to be straight up smut, but it won't be family-friendly either. Enjoy! Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think.

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Chapter 8.

Chloe sat on the floor by the door, overcome by her own conflicting emotions. She'd just said goodnight to Lucifer. He was probably back at Lux by now. She hugged her knees to her body and willed herself to stop crying. Why had she started in the first place? What sense did any of this make? _It was just a party. A work night, not even a party. He thought fast and made a clever play to keep your cover. He helped you undo a jammed zipper, in that… ridiculous, stupid dress! I'll be damned if I have to wear that tangled bullshit ever again. Stupid parties. Stupid rich, snobby criminals. Stupid stupid stupid._

The anger finally gave her enough drive to get up and trudge up the stairs while her thoughts ran circles around her like insolent children. _Oh, you thought that was a moment? The pause, when his hand lingered on your shoulder? Stupid girl, it was just awkward silence. You're so awkward. He probably just didn't want to hurt your feelings. There probably wasn't even a pause at all, you're just a stupid child with a crush, acting like you're in middle school. Ohhh, the cute boy touched me, whoop-tee-do! Let's go call all our girlfriends and ask if he said anything about me._ Her toes caught on the last stair and she almost tripped, still tangled in the dress, which was now hanging off her waist. She growled in frustration and marched into her bedroom. The second she was near her bed, she practically ripped the dress off and threw it forcefully into the closet, hoping the thoughts would go with it.

She climbed into her bed and turned off the light, too annoyed with herself to put on pajamas. _Fuck. Everything._ She closed her eyes to a vision of his staring at her. She took a deep breath. _Please go away. Please._ His face behind her eyelids seemed to laugh at her. She shut her eyes tighter and resolved to count sheep.

Even that proved more difficult than usual. The sheep didn't want to jump over the fence. When she would finally force one to walk up to it, it would turn around and run away. The clouds above the fence hung still, looking like they were a rough cutout of construction paper. Stars swung down from the sky on little strings, twirling and glittering. The night air was fresh, like on a farm in the middle of the country. There were crickets.

There were no more sheep. Sounds of a bustling city filled the air. Suddenly, she was standing in Lucifer's penthouse apartment, looking at the sky through one of the full-length windows. Warm hands gripped her shoulders. She took in a sharp breath. The long fingers dug into her skin and didn't leg go. Then, the air was flooded with his cologne. It didn't smell like anything specific, but she knew it was him, standing behind her in his suit and tie. He whispered something in her ear, but she was too distracted by his warm breath on her neck to make out what he said.

She was wearing the yellow dress again, only this time the straps slid down on their own when she turned her head toward her shoulder. He kissed the other side. She felt a vague sensation of warmth on her neck where his mouth was, but nothing was concrete except the anxious butterflies in her stomach. She fought to concentrate. Everything was muddled. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once. They unzipped her dress in one swift move and it fell obediently to the floor. A strong arm pushed her into the glass, naked high above to the world below. She could no longer see the night sky out of the window, but the coolness of the glass tugged at her nipples pressed against it. She leaned into the sensation. He dragged his fingernails down her ribcage, her waist, over the curve of her hips. It stung a little, but she craved the sharpness of the burn. She wanted more. He gave it to her. He laced his fingers through her hair and pulled her head back, turning her around. He kissed her. Though everything else felt like ambiguous fragments and blurred visions, like floating suspended in a nebulous cloud, his kiss was rendered to the last detail. His lips felt soft connected to hers and pulled a little when he drew away with her breath. Her eyes were closed. Suddenly, she was lying in his bed, but knew nothing had happened. The echo of his kiss throbbed on her lips and she wanted more still. She wanted him all over her, filling every last empty part of her soul. His presence would burn brightly enough to fill the silence, to drive away the demons. There could be bliss, pure overpowering bliss, and nothing else.

She opened her eyes and he was gone, and the lights were off, and there were no more stars on strings in the sky. She looked at the ceiling over his bed with confusion and felt like weeping again. Instead, she screamed, and was sure that no one heard her. There wasn't a soul around. She tried to scream again, but no sound would come out. She couldn't move. She was sinking into the bed, paralyzed and suffocating, and she had no weapons to fight with and no one to save her. She reached desperately toward the sky and the vision began to smudge as a mechanical sound rang out and echoed through the walls. It stopped, then there was nothing around her at all, and then she heard it again.

Chloe suddenly awoke in her own bed to the sound of her phone ringing. It was still dark out. She shot up, panting and looking around the room, her hand instinctively reaching for her gun. Another ring had passed before she could calm herself enough to realize that it had just been a dream. _Just a dream. Nothing happened. Everything is okay,_ she told herself. _Just a dream._

The phone rang again. She answered it without looking. "Hello?"

"Detective!" Then guarded silence. "…Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"No. Why?"

"You're… rather out of breath." His pause culminated in a cocky chortle and she was sure he was smirking as he said, "Pardon, I didn't mean to interrupt, please continue."

"What?"

Silence. She could practically hear him grinning.

Chloe's worn-out mind took a minute to catch up. "Oh, no, _no no no,_ I wasn't—"

"It's quite alright! I'd hate to ruin your fun. In fact, I'm sure I could—"

"Lucifer! For God's sake, it's the middle of the night! What the hell do you want?"

He made a disappointed sigh. "Very well. I thought I should let you know that I've nearly interpreted the letter."

"You've deciphered it already?"

"My dear, it's just a matter of translation." Chloe tried to recall the script as he continued, almost certain that it didn't belong to any language she'd ever heard of. "It designates a meeting place and time. Alas, no details as to whom the meeting is with or for what purpose."

"Okay. What's the place and time?"

"Well… That's the thing, the meeting is at 4 AM. It's 3 right now. But, I'm having trouble reading the place, only that it's on the east side of town."

She threw aside her blankets and jumped out of bed. "So closer to you than to me. Okay, keep working, I'll meet you at Lux."

She hung up the phone and rushed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and throw some water on her face. Walking around the room with her toothbrush in her mouth, she slipped on a pair of jeans and black turtleneck. Then, she tied her hair back in a ponytail and rinsed out her mouth before rushing out the door.

She arrived at Lux a short time later. The bouncers let her in. There weren't many guests left in the club and the atmosphere was lazy and mellow, much unlike her disposition. She made her way up on the elevator and when it opened, she found Lucifer leaning on the piano, facing her with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

She hesitated a moment. "Have you got it, then?"

"What?"

"The meeting place! The letter."

"Oh, I gave it to Maze. She's better at this than I am. She should be done any minute now, but I believe she's making some calls downstairs."

Chloe turned to look out the window and was momentarily comforted by the fact that it was still dark outside, then the memory of her dream sprang up and she jerked away like she'd been burned by fire. Lucifer followed her gaze with curiosity.

"Detective, are we going to talk about why you haven't been able to look me in the eye all night?" He swirled his drink.

She glanced up to find him looking amused. The longer he looked at her, the more she felt like he saw, and the more it made her want to hide. His eyes stared assertively into hers, and despite her best intentions, she looked away first. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

"That! Right there." He pushed himself off the piano and was now pointing at her. "Ever since the party, you refuse to look at me."

She glared, misdirected anger bubbling up to give her tenacity. "I'm looking at you right now, aren't I?"

"Ahh, yes," he grinned, "anger is such a great motivator. It can help us overcome the greatest of obstacles and shield us from the deepest of our fears. Detective, what is it that you fear?" He continued to advance on her, beaming with interest. He'd momentarily forgotten that his powers don't work around her and expected to get a candid answer. However, she glared silently back at him. He narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "Okay, fine, I can see that you're touchy because I interrupted your _you time._ "

"For fuck's sake!" She raised her voice in frustration. "I was not—"

"Then why were you panting when I called?" He seemed to have no awareness of the fact that his line of questioning was completely improper.

"I had a nightmare!" she shot back, defensively. She was beginning to feel cornered.

"A nightmare?" He continued doubtfully. "What about?"

His impetuousness finally brought her blood to a boiling point. "YOU!" Her voice resonated through the apartment and stopped him in his tracks.

His eyes grew wide. "Oh!"

Her eyes followed suit upon realizing this wasn't going to go the way she anticipated. _Oh shit._ She desperately looked around the room for a distraction, once again glazing over the window that served as the setting of her dream and drawing her eyes away from it with haste.

Too late. He saw. He looked at the window. " _Ohh!_ Oh, detective! _Naughty!"_

She stood glaring at him, her cheeks bright red.

"The window, detective?" he teased, hardly able to hold back his enjoyment of this. "How creative! I applaud your dirty little mind. What is it exactly that, uh, the man of your _dreams_ did to you at my window?" He walked toward her slowly at first, then decisively. "Was it me? Aww. Did you have a dirty dream about me?" His voice was assured, like an archaeologist solving a puzzle that greatly excited him. He zoned in on her face to register every clue it gave away. He was close. He knew it. He could smell it on her. "Did I push you against the window? Did I tear off your clothes—" he corrected himself, adapting quickly to her reaction, "—no, it was that gorgeous yellow dress you dreamt of, that candid piece of silk that let you body speak so clearly," he deliberately looked down at her chest now, then back up to her eyes.

She was breathing heavily, unable to look away from the smolder in his eyes. He had her transfixed. He knew his game too well. He was an expert. She never stood a chance. All she could do was stare back silently, awaiting his next move.

"So, detective. You never answered. Why is it that you don't seem to want to look me in the eye ever since out little charade earlier this evening? Are you feeling shy? I must know, was it the sight of me between your legs that you can't get out of your head now?"

Her mind fought desperately to find an adequate excuse, but none came. "Wh-when?"

He cocked his head to the side and grinned. Checkmate. He had his answer. He'd had it all along. He pretended, but he could see right through her, she thought. She felt her chest tighten again. Thankfully, just at that moment, the elevator chimed and his eyes released hers, distracted momentarily by the figure walking out.

Maze walked up to them and stopped, eyeing each of them in turn with annoyance. Finally, she handed him the letter. "The docks," she said colorlessly.

He merely nodded.

Maze turned to walk back to the elevator, muttering in the doorway just before the doors closed, "Will you two please just fuck already and get it over with?"

Chloe, who was facing away from her, looked even more bewildered at her comment. Lucifer simply turned toward Chloe with a smirk. "Yes, detective, it really would make things so much easier on both of us. How long are you going to keep denying yourself the pleasure?"

She clenched her jaw. "The docks. Let's go."


	9. Chapter 9: The Docks

Chapter 9.

She drove impulsively. Lucifer was actually startled a couple of times. Though she always had the car under control, he could feel an unexpected rashness radiating off of her. He wondered if it was the meeting time she was worried about making, or if other factors compounded to cause her to shed her diligence tonight. _Just how much does it take to throw the detective off balance?_ True, she hadn't had much sleep. Perhaps he also disturbed her with his game of cat and mouse. He so enjoyed being the cat. It was a familiar script and a skill he excelled at. Like chess, he knew what moves would open up to what others. He knew all the sequences, and she was a novice. He almost felt bad for a moment for indulging himself so. Why was it that he couldn't help himself?

 _She was just the first woman to deny you._ Ah yes, here came the Rational Explanation. _Maybe the game is more thrilling than the result. It's exciting because it's new._ There weren't many new things left when you've lived for millennia. But then again, he'd only just begun his exploration of the upper world. So what would happen if he caught her? What if they could stand still together in the same moment? If she suddenly stopped running from him, if he grasped her… then what? He's never bothered to deal with a "then what" before, so he pushed the thought away, just like the subconscious awareness that more had happened that evening than he conceded.

Alas, his mind continued to torment him. _What if she could see me, the real me?_ What if he could get her to believe him, show her who he really was? It's not like he was ashamed of being the king of hell, even though he'd recently decided to take a vacation from it. He remembered the day he realized she made him mortal, how he avoided her. The cult gathering – how they walked up to the house and he convinced the doorman to let them in by showing him the shining red eyes of the devil – he could've let her see them too. He could've proven to her who he was long ago. Why didn't he?

 _Because you'd lose her,_ another voice chimed in. _If she saw who you really are, and by some miracle didn't lose her mind like the others, do you really think she'd stick around?_

This runaway train of thought was interrupted when she pulled the car to a stop and jumped out, slamming the door behind her. She was still worked up, it seemed. He followed quietly. He knew when to stop throwing gasoline on a fire, despite his frequent decision to ignore it.

It was night, still. They could hear the water splash against the bank, but nothing set it apart from the sky that was the same dark blue. The back of the docks, which they'd just arrived at, was scarcely lit by sodium vapor streetlamps that hummed and gave off a languid yellow glow. It drained the color from her face as she crept under it, hugging the wall. He followed her down a dark passageway between loading crates, where she knelt and put her finger to her lips, telling him to stay quiet. Her gun was drawn and pointed at the sky. She was listening intently, but there was no sound of voices coming from anywhere.

She crawled out carefully, then motioned for him to follow her. They found a ladder and climbed it to the top of a stack of crates. The high ground. From here, they could see the whole shipyard, and it could presumably see them, but they were conveniently hidden in the shadows of various girders and other construction equipment.

"Looks like we're the first ones here," Chloe sighed. _All that rushing toward nothing (and definitely not away from anything, I mean, obviously)._

"Yes, it would appear that the other guests will be fashionably late." Lucifer stood at the edge of the crate and looked out at the sea, or sky perhaps. The breeze blew his blazer open and fluttered his tie.

Chloe sat down with her back against a stack of concrete blocks, watching him. She was tired of running around. "Come sit with me," she said as she patted the ground next to her. He turned to look at her over his shoulder and his eyes swept from her to the ground and back to her while he regarded the proposal. He might ruin his suit. He shrugged and sauntered over, taking a seat close to her so that their shoulders touched while they watched the night. The entrance points were all in plain view. As soon as someone arrived, they'd be able to see them. There was no need to worry yet.

Nevertheless, he felt restless. He couldn't sit still in silence. "Shall we play 20 questions, detective?"

"20 questions? Oh, you don't wanna play 20 questions with me. The last word I had someone try to guess was 'hole.' I win almost every round," she laughed.

"A _hole?_ That is… wickedly brilliant!" His eyes sparkled as he turned to look at her. "The use of negative space. How very cunning!"

"Negative space? Like in art class?"

"Mm, precisely. A hole is the absence of matter, but it is technically a thing and does fulfill the rules of the game. You clever minx! I do wager I could give you a run for your money, though."

She chuckled. "Perhaps another night, my brain isn't working that well anymore."

He sighed impatiently. "Very well, but you can't expect me to sit quietly. Ooh, I know! Let's take turns asking each other personal questions." His eyes glittered again as she turned to give him a look. "I'll even let you go first!"

She rested the back of her head on the blocks. "Fine. Tell me where you come from. What's your story?"

He rolled his eyes dismissively. "I've already told you that, detective, you're throwing away your question."

"No, I mean, where you _really_ come from."

"I told you where I really come from. Hell. Well, Heaven originally, I suppose."

She grunted. "Right, how silly of me to forget that I'm talking to the _king of hell_ over here. Oh, great one, who commands the forces of the demon bartenders and whom no mortal woman can resist, won't you tell me your secret?"

"All but one mortal woman, it would seem," he muttered under his breath. "My secret? You wish to know my secret?"

"Yeah! Why do women plaster themselves all over you? I mean, don't get me wrong," she looked him up and down, "you're a handsome guy, but it's ridiculous! The doctor who knows very well she should be in jail and have her license revoked, the celebrities, the Britneys, they just lose their heads in your presence. How do you do that? How do you seduce them?"

His expression grew into a wicked grin. "Seduce them, detective? I don't have to."

"And he's _humble,_ to match!" she threw her arms out. "Listen, I'm sure by now it seems like women are just helpless to resist you, but here I am to disprove that theory. So, tell me, what is it that you do to them? How do you seduce them so easily? I want to understand."

He'd heard enough objections to know she wouldn't believe him anyway, so he decided to go with it. "Okay, detective, I will tell you my secret. The art of seduction." He waved his hands grandiosely.

She grinned smugly at his admission and tilted her head to signal that he has her attention. He straightened up and assumed a storytelling position. "I understand why you're curious. A woman like you doesn't need to seduce anybody, you just show up. Seduction, however, is about…" he paused for effect, "…the negative space."

Chloe burst out laughing. "If this is gonna be a hole-related innuendo, I swear to…"

"Oh, trust me, He doesn't care. Anyway, it's not an innuendo. Think about it. Seduction is not about the subject, it's about everything else. It's about the room, the lights, the music, the clothes, the shape their fantasies take on. It's not about what they say, it's about picking up on what they don't say. Their dreams. Their secrets. To read people's innermost desires, you must read their silence."

Chloe was beginning to see that he was serious and actually making a lot of sense.

"Moreover, seduction is not about what _you_ do, it's about what you _don't_ do. Make something unattainable and suddenly it becomes irresistible." He noticed that she was listening with interest now and smiled to himself. "May I use you as an example, momentarily?"

She shifted. "I… I guess…"

"Don't worry, detective, I won't touch you," he said, looking directly into her eyes as he spoke. "You've told me this evening that you'd like to know where I come from. You aren't willing to accept the answer I gave, so my origins remain a mystery to you. This is precisely why it was the first question that came to your mind. You've perceived me as making my past unattainable, and so your curiosity grows hungrier each day."

"Okay… I can see how that works," she nodded, waiting for him to go on.

Instead, he slowly looked her up and down, letting the silence fester. He let her fly to the edge of her comfort before he finally reeled her back and continued. "Would you like to know why you had that dream about me?" Her eyes grew wide, but he cut her off before she could protest and continued in a slow, even tone. "Our interaction that night followed an unspoken set of rules. We had to look like we were engaged in a socially inappropriate activity so that the guard would feel uncomfortable examining our endeavors more closely. At the same time, you knew I would allow you as much personal space as possible. Therefore, you and I both knew there was a boundary that would not be violated. Now, I like to keep things exciting, and you know that, so you also knew that I would push this boundary. Therefore, neither the kiss on your knee nor the squeeze I gave you afterwards satisfied you." He continued watching her eyes to see how these words landed on her. "What you began to want was what was silently agreed upon as being unattainable, which is why your mind is trying to fill in the gap in your sleep."

She hated him for it, but everything he said made sense, and she felt stripped and vulnerable in front of him. It was a highly roused state of being, teetering on the edge of fear and excitement. She could choose to reject what he was saying, deny it because it was frightening, and counter him with indignation, but that wouldn't change the fact that he was right. He read this silence as well, just like he said he would, and kept her there as he continued to calculatedly stare into her eyes. After a few more seconds, he spoke again. "Detective?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you remember when I said I wouldn't touch you?"

She blinked twice, thinking back to when he asked to use her as an example.

He looked down at her lips, which were now hovering about a foot away from him. He'd maintained his original sitting position and she had leaned forward into him slowly while he talked. He looked down at her arms, propping her up in front of him, and grinned. "You don't have to say anything, but I'd like you to notice where you are and think about what the one thing you want most right now is."

The pieces fell into place exactly how he'd arranged them. By assuring her he wouldn't touch her, he let her feel safe to explore her boundaries. She subconsciously drew towards him because the one thing she now craved most was for him to break that assurance. In the split second it took her to realize this, voices suddenly reached them from below and rescued her from having to react.

She turned away and crawled to the edge, grateful for the distraction. She lay low and listened carefully. Lucifer watched her for a minute before he followed suit. She looked confused.

"I must be going crazy, but I can't make out a word they're saying," she whispered.

He crawled over to her side, trying to tune in to the conversation. At first, he couldn't pick out any words. Then, suddenly, he heard it. They were speaking a language that, if he wasn't mistaken, wasn't currently spoken on Earth.

He unconsciously pushed her out of the way and crept closer so that he could hear it more clearly. She protested.

"What? What is it?"

He waved at her to shush and she waited for a minute to let him listen. Then, she pressed on, unable to sit back and watch. "What language are they speaking? Can you understand it?"

He nodded, but his expression, which she just barely caught a glimpse of in the shadows, was grave.

"Lucifer, _what is it?"_

"They're speaking the language of the angels," he replied in full seriousness.

She gestured incredulously. "Really, is now the best time for this?"

"Detective," he turned toward her, "I can't very well change the truth just because you don't believe me."

She rolled her eyes and peered down at the scene. There were 2 men in strange clothing standing around talking. They didn't appear to be armed, nor were there any guards in sight. _How stupid of them,_ she thought. _Must be some kind of fanatic cult again, taking their first shot at crime._

Lucifer was deep in thought. Unlike the detective, he understood parts of what they were saying and they worried him. They were talking about a drug trade, but a substance the name of which he didn't recognize. What were the angels doing pushing around a new drug? Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

He was so occupied with trying to figure out their conversation that he didn't notice the detective telling him to stay and crawling down the ladder. She disappeared from his view before he realized she was gone. _Shit!_ What was she up to? She didn't know the danger she was in. _Oh, no._ She probably saw that they were unarmed and decided she didn't need to wait for backup.

His pulse quickened as he crawled after her. _No no no no no._ If she jumped out in the open, if they knew she was there, she wouldn't stand a chance. _Where is she?_

He hopped off the ladder silently and made his way through the maze of shipping containers, diving in and out of the shadows, the feeling of dread growing stronger and stronger with every turn behind which he didn't see her. She didn't need a man to save her, but this was different. She didn't know what she was up against. He had to protect her because he was the only one who could. That is, if he could find her.

He searched frantically until he finally saw her at the edge of the opening on the opposite side from him. His pleading eyes met with hers for a brief moment, but it was already too late. Everything else happened in a split second.

She jumped out, gun drawn and pointed, and ordered the perps to the ground. Lucifer was already running toward her, propelled by horror, when one of the angels cocked his head to the side and raised his hand. One more moment and he would snap his fingers, and she would not only be dead, she would be erased from existence. She was too far away. He wouldn't get to her in time.

"NO!" he screamed, and the waves rose in the sea around them and stood still. The angels turned to look. Chloe's gun fell to the ground. The last thing he saw before they disappeared was her terrified expression and the reflection of his own red glowing eyes in the polished metal slate behind her. And just like that, all three of them were gone and he was left standing at the docks alone. The waves fell.


	10. Chapter 10: The Cruelty

Chapter 10.

He stood motionless as the waves fell back into the sea with a deafening crash. He didn't hear it. He didn't blink. The sun rose behind him and the day dared to begin without Chloe. She was right there one second and then she was gone. He didn't know where, but they took her. The freshness of the air ached against his skin. He stood stubbornly staring into the spot where her terrified face had disappeared, refusing to accept the events as they had happened. Perhaps, if he stared long enough, time would reverse. The longer it took to do so, the crueler his anger became. And oh, how cruel the devil's fury would be.

"Lucifer?" Maze called from behind him tentatively. She'd felt the disturbance and come to find him.

He ignored her for a minute, then held out his hand to warn her not to approach.

She didn't want to. She usually wouldn't have dared, but she'd been growing, too, as a part of her time on earth. She was growing into her own being, and as such, she embraced her boldness. It was this boldness that called out to him again, "Lucifer, we must go."

His hands clenched into fists. She anticipated that when he turned around, he would be breathing fire. However, after a few seconds, his hands unclenched and he nodded. She was shocked. After millennia of immobility, they were suddenly both changing, and it was so inconveniently unpredictable.

Without warning, he turned and marched toward the car, never turning to face her. All he left behind was a circle of dead weeds poking through the gravel where he'd stood. That wasn't good, she thought, following reluctantly.

* * *

Time passed in fragments now. There was a road. There was a door, to Lux. Then, he was up in his penthouse.

The downstairs was unusually busy for morning hours. Maze was summoning and organizing cronies. He didn't have to ask her to raise hell, it was done.

He spoke little. He beckoned Amenadiel with a thought. Wings fluttered.

"I don't know where she is."

Lucifer looked past him. That wasn't good enough.

"I don't know who they are, either. But I'll see what I can find out."

The corners of Lucifer's lips tightened as the wings flapped away. He looked out at the sunrise, the one that had dared to happen today anyway.

He walked out onto the balcony. An image of dancing with her flashed through his mind and he grew angrier still. _Patience. It's only a matter of time. If they don't—no. They won't. They know better._

* * *

By the time the sun set, Lucifer had paced every inch of the floor, both down and upstairs. Maze had thrust a glass of whiskey in his hand and he was now carrying it around. His mind had been over every possible scenario, every possible explanation. It didn't matter, in the end.

He slumped down in a chair and rubbed his temples. The sound of ruffling feathers filled the room once again. He looked up in anticipation.

Amenadiel looked like he was searching for the right words and it annoyed Lucifer immensely. He gave him a scowl as if to say, just spit it out.

"Several angels went missing over the past few months."

"And?"

"It's likely that the ones who took her were involved with the defection…"

"And?"

"…to _mother_."

Lucifer tilted his head in acrimony. Glass shelves suddenly shook and shattered. Somewhere behind Amenadiel, a vase exploded. He backed away.

Lucifer closed his eyes and exhaled.

* * *

Maze watched him scream into his phone during various conversations, now pacing the bar, which he'd instructed to be closed for the night. Lights flickered when he walked under them. It was curious, she thought. He cut off his wings and lost most of his powers around the girl, but now he couldn't seem to control them. They were bursting to the surface. He might be more powerful than he'd ever been, and that was definitely not a good thing.

She watched as he stopped pacing, held the phone away from his ear, and it burst into flames in his hand. He held it burning with madness in his eyes.

Maze walked over and put her hand on his arm. "You know we'll find her."

He looked at her with contempt. "Yes, you'd best. I'll burn this whole pathetic planet to the ground before I let some foolish foot soldiers get away with this."

"Perhaps it would be best if you went to see Dr. Linda."

"Why, Mazikeen, am I _scaring_ you?" It was the first time he looked into her eyes all day. She wished he didn't.

* * *

He plopped down onto the couch and threw his head back.

Linda Martin sat across from him, having agreed to an emergency session. She observed him carefully. "Have you notified the police?"

"What shall I tell them, doctor, that angels flew away with one of their detectives?" He spat back sarcastically.

She continued to look at him. "Her life could be in danger. Perhaps you should tell them the truth."

" _The truth!"_ He stood up, outraged and ready to walk out the door.

"Okay, okay, please sit down." She took a deep breath. "I know this must be very difficult. I'm here for you."

He stood awkwardly for a moment before obeying.

"How are you coping with your distress?"

"Surprisingly well, all things considered."

She nodded and crossed her leg over the other.

* * *

He was standing on the balcony once again. It was night. His mind ached. He'd exhausted every option, tried everything he could think of to track her down. He'd called in favors and sent an army to search for her. He prayed. He begged. He shouted and broke things.

There was nothing but silence in return. All of his efforts amounted to nothing at all. He stood here in this silence, his hands digging into the railing until his knuckles turned white.

 _What if they hurt her?_ _No,_ he shook his head, they know better than to do that. He was still the most powerful of them. Even his mother wouldn't be stupid enough to harm someone under his protection. Though, he didn't know what his mother would do. She might keep Chloe as leverage, or as a trophy for all time. He might never see her again.

He shook his head to ward the thought away. It wasn't productive.

 _She saw you,_ his mind continued. There was no mistaking that. There was only one reason for the detective to look so terrified. He slipped up. In his panic, she saw his eyes. That's not something she'll forget. _So what happens when you get her back?_

He shook that thought away too.

As he stood suffocating in the fresh breeze, a sense of dread and fear saturated him. He'd never felt so helpless before. It was awful. He'd ruled over hell for so many ages. He'd taken what he wanted since the beginning of time. Nothing, save heaven itself, was off limits. Nothing was out of his grasp. Surely not a woman. And surely if one were, he wouldn't care this much. He hated it. Caring was excruciating. Why was he causing himself all this pain?

And yet, the pain didn't go away, no matter what he did. No matter how he beat against the walls, he couldn't do a thing. It was a struggle to accept that there was nothing more he could do. He felt utterly powerless. Useless.

In his frustration, he gripped the railing tighter until it bent and cracked. He felt like screaming, so he did. He shouted into the night, as long and hard as he could, until his throat was sore and his voice was breaking. It didn't help.

He sank down onto the floor, exhausted and defeated. Then, another wave of hatred surged through him. He raised his eyes to the sky whilst they welled up with tears. _"Is this what you wanted? Is this your grand plan? Did you give me something divine just to take it away? After millennia of suffering for that which you deemed to be my sin, you send me here to learn to suffer in a whole new way? How cruel and sickening you really are! You, in all of your famed mercy and glory, sitting there on your ass while the world suffers. Your stupid creatures are killing each other, dying of leprosy in the streets they built. They believe that you care, that you'll save them, but they don't know you like I do. They don't know that you're colder than the universe itself. Well, FUCK YOU THEN! I WILL BURN YOUR CREATION TO ASHES AND NOTHING WILL STOP ME BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT YOU DESERVE."_


	11. Chapter 11: The Humanity

Chapter 11.

Maze burst out of the shaking elevator into the room. Dust was falling from the ceiling and lamps were swaying on their cords. Lights were flickering. It took her a moment to spot him, standing on the balcony with his arms raised.

"Stop it! You're gonna bring the whole building down!" she ran towards him.

He turned to face her, "Oh, I'm gonna bring down a whole lot more than that!"

His eyes sparkled with exceptional malice. He was cackling. He'd totally lost it. She was afraid.

"Have you ever noticed how meaningless all of this is?"

"What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?"

"Yes, perhaps I'm crazy! And yet, notice how Almighty Father isn't coming to stop me." He bobbed his head from one shoulder to the other and shrugged comically. "I guess this is part of His plan, then! And I'm just playing my part, like a good boy." It was a very sinister display of absurdity.

"What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all. Because, see, nothing _can_ be wrong with me. Everything is happening exactly the way He wants. Don't you understand? It doesn't matter! He's not coming to save his creations. They mean nothing to him. They're just game pieces, and he's gotten bored of the game. So what does it matter if I shake up the board? That was always my role, anyway, to clear the table and let him start anew. I'm the _secretary._ I bring his coffee. Sorry, dad, coffee's a bit hot today!"

Maze looked at him, bewildered. This was the biggest temper tantrum she'd ever seem him throw, and unlike the others, she had a bad feeling that this one was justified. She had to talk him down before his destruction got out of hand. Her mind was racing. "Okay, I get it, you're upset!"

" _Upset?_ Ha! Who cares? Don't you get it, we were always going to end up here. From the moment I left hell, or maybe from the moment I was created, Father produced this future. He thrust her in my path to teach another one of his cruel lessons, like some sort of righteous Miss Havisham. We are all living in his rotting mansion, dancing around like pieces in his scheme. Well, I'll have no part in it a moment longer!"

"What lesson is it, exactly, that you think he's trying to teach you?" The ground was shaking below and the distant sound of cars honking and people screaming started to rise.

"To know my place! That I should've stayed in hell and obeyed. That I'm not and never will be forgiven. I GOT IT, YOU OLD BASTARD!" He turned back toward the sky. "But there's something else I learned. I learned that your creations are worthless. You'd cast out your own son for refusing to bow to them, but they mean nothing to you, and I mean even _less."_

On the word 'less,' a crack began to run through the pavement many stories below and branched out into the alleyways. Maze grabbed his arm desperately. "Lucifer, please!"

"Please _what?_ "

"You know this isn't right."

"Isn't that what I do, wrong? Evil? Isn't it who I am?"

"It doesn't have to be."

"Really? I don't remember being given that option! You, more than anyone, have scorned me for the way I've been changing. Well, now I think you might've been right all along!"

Maze sighed. It was true, she'd hated him for breaking his mold because she was so sure it was wrong. It went against everything she knew about him, and by extension, herself. However, the short time on earth had changed them both and she was beginning to see things in a way she never had before. She knew it was because of him. He was leading the way. He saw the inkling of magnificence first, then she followed. She wouldn't let him turn away from it now. "Lucifer, you have that option today."

He looked at her, searching her face.

"You said his creations are meaningless to him. Are they meaningless to you?"

His jaw clenched, but he continued to watch her speak.

"I saw it in your eyes. You once said that humans are beneath you. Perhaps that's true, but look at what you're doing right now. You're doing it because of a human."

 _Chloe_. The rumbling cracked harder.

"Maybe..." Maze put her other hand on his arm now too, "I mean, I don't get it, but maybe she's meant as a gift, not a curse. I know you're suffering now that she'd been taken away, but… she wouldn't want you to do this."

He was lost in thought, carefully contemplating her words. _This world, full of filth, has produced a being more beautiful than all of the angels._ He couldn't very well ignore this proof of its potential. He was torn. A part of him suffered in searing pain and wanted to consume everything in its sight to find relief, but here was this other part like an unlikely flower pushing through the pavement. It was fragile, young, and precious, and it pushed stubbornly through the thick skin of his soul. For the first time in his life, he'd found something worth saving, and he couldn't save it.

He lowered his arms and was silent for a long time. The rumbling began to die down. The smoke was now dissipating from the air and the rays of sunlight seemed to already be at work cleaning up the mess. Sirens blared from all corners of the city. The news frantically scrambled to report on the earthquakes.

This was the greatest challenge he'd ever faced, and therefore the greatest opportunity for growth. This moment was crucial. He had to choose who he wanted to be. For once, he had a choice. He finally spoke, "You're right, Maze, and I am sorry."

Maze looked astounded and unprepared for that response.

"But you're also wrong. The detective isn't a gift or a curse. She's not _for_ me. She is her own being, and I am merely a witness to her miracle. I have long admired humans for their ingenuity, I have punished their sins, and I have partaken of their exquisite taste, but I've never… until her, I've never seen what merits their hearts are capable of."

He dropped his gaze to the floor, suddenly remorseful of all the damage he'd caused and how long Maze had been cleaning up after him. Thinking of Chloe, he felt ashamed and his heart sank again. She was still gone.

* * *

He wandered down to the docks where he'd last seen her, past the chattering crowds and the rush of emergency crews. He sat down on the bank and watched the sun setting over the bridge into the sea.

Life was very confusing. He took a deep breath of salty air and closed his eyes. There was something greater than him here. It was humbling, and infuriating, and excruciating, and marvelous all at once. The human experience, perhaps. The whole package. He was getting the whole package. For a brief moment, he actually felt grateful. Then he remembered her scared eyes.

Suddenly, the sky flashed bright orange. He blinked. A body was falling out of thin air into the water. He jumped up. Surely, _it couldn't be…_

He dove into the water in his suit before he even heard the splash. The water was cold and murky green. It stung his eyes as he swam toward the spot where she'd landed, brushing seaweeds out of the way until he finally saw her. She had her eyes closed. Her hair was floating around her like a halo and her clothes clung to her body as it spiraled down toward the bottom.

He grasped her hand and pulled himself to her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She was cold, but he could feel her heartbeat. She was alive.

He swam toward the surface. In a flash, he was human again, and as such, he needed air to breathe. It was quickly running out, but he didn't care. He kicked harder, pulling her along, until they finally breached the surface. He looked up at the last rays of the sun and gasped for air, which felt like the sweetest honey pouring down his throat and filling his lungs with life.

He was now holding her on top of him as he swam backwards toward the shore. It was a struggle. His clothes were heavy in the water and body was tired. By the time he managed to pull her out, he collapsed next to her, completely out of breath.

 _Breath!_ He rolled over to look at her. "Chloe?" He brushed the hair out of her face and patted her cheek. "Chloe, wake up!"

 _Oh God._ Her chest wasn't moving. She must've swallowed too much seawater, or maybe she was never conscious to begin with. He looked around, disoriented, trying to remember… _what is it that humans do when they cannot breathe?_ CPR? What the devil was that?

Concentrating very hard allowed him to bring up a memory of something he'd seen on TV. He murmured the instructions to himself as he tilted her head back and placed his hands on her chest. He hesitated for a moment, remembering that CPR, done properly, could break her ribs. He couldn't imagine hurting her, but he also couldn't imagine letting her die.

Fortunately, just at that moment, her eyes flung open and she shot up, coughing, then fell back down. He let her cough for just a moment before covering her head with kisses, then quickly realized the faux pas and let her go. He'd never felt so anxious to see what would happen next.

Here it was, the moment of truth. Did she remember what she'd seen? Would she turn away from him?

He was relieved when she sat up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. If only just for this moment, she seemed preoccupied with pulling him close and everything was okay. He squeezed her tight and let himself be lost.


	12. Chapter 12: The Water

Okkkk, guys, fair warning, things get a little… steamy… and that's a pun so, sorry not sorry. I've never written anything like this before, so let me know how I did. Good luck! (TW: allusion to suicide)

* * *

Chapter 12.

He held her as tight as he could against the chilling wind that caught in their dripping clothes. He'd never felt so relieved. Right now, it didn't matter how it happened or why, only that she was returned. Perhaps he held on so strongly just to make sure the delicate shaking figure in his arms was really real, and he didn't notice when she'd begun to cry.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He gripped her shoulders and pulled her off of him to examine. There were no signs of physical damage. He should've thought of it sooner, though. "Did they hurt you?"

She scarcely shook her head and let her forehead fall forward into his shoulder.

"Okay, it's okay, it's okay…" he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and slowly reached to stroke her hair, not quite sure what to do. "You're safe now. You're safe."

He dug his phone out of his pocket, having forgotten that it was immersed in water along with him. The screen was distorted with gradients of green and purple, but miraculously, it seemed to function fine. He dialed 911 and gave them the location. Chloe continued to sob into his chest, which was rather uncharacteristic of her and therefore made him quite worried. What happened while she was gone? She was ice cold, shivering, and obviously quite distressed. He had no idea what to do about it, which only made him more uneasy, as he'd never really been in this position before. He was used to inflicting pain, not comforting. _What happened to her?_ His anxious mind went to dark places, but he knew she was in no condition to be questioned, so he rocked with her gently while the paramedics arrived.

They bustled around, asking a million questions and trying to peel her off of him.

"What happened?" One of them asked.

"She fell off the bridge." That was a lie, she was nowhere near the bridge, but he couldn't very well tell them she appeared and fell out of thin air. Humans were such sticklers for their understanding of physics.

They'd now sat her back and instructed him to move away. Someone was shining a flashlight into her eyes. Another one continued to question him and scribble in a little notepad. "Does she have a history of mental illness?"

"What? No! You weren't listening, I didn't say she jumped, she _fell._ "

"Sir. I'm gonna need you to calm down. We deal with this kind of thing all the time."

The men behind him were loading her into a gurney and getting a syringe ready.

"You're not listening! What is that you're giving her?" Lucifer asked, growing impatient.

"Just a mild sedative, it's standard procedure—"

Lucifer pushed the man aside as Chloe flinched and reached for him. He ran over and grabbed her hand while the paramedics yelled at him to step away.

" _Don't leave me alone!"_ she pleaded.

"I won't."

She clung to him until they let him ride in the ambulance with her. She stopped sobbing quickly when they gave her the tranquilizer and just looked vacantly at the ceiling. He pressed her freezing fingertips to his lips and could've sworn she quivered.

* * *

For the second time now, Chloe woke up in the hospital with Lucifer waiting at her bedside. He smiled when he saw her eyes open.

"Detective, how are we feeling?"

She made a pained grunt and closed them. She was still sedated and disoriented, and her fragmented memory didn't help the overwhelming anxiety rising through her chest.

"They've notified your family and the department," he continued. "Not to worry, the little human is being taken care of by her grandparents, I believe. They'll want to see you when you feel better."

She shook her head, "I can't…" Her voice came out raspy and she stopped to clear her throat.

He waited for her to continue. "You can't what?"

"I don't… want to see them, yet."

He watched as she pulled the blanket up to her throat and slid down lower into the hospital bed.

"Very well. What do you want?"

"Take me home," she muttered, barely above a whisper.

He tilted his head. "Fine, if that's what you wish. As soon as the doctor says you're free to go."

She sat up and raised her voice slightly, like a child threatening to throw a tantrum. "I want to go home now!"

He smiled politely like he tended to do when he was about to disagree, "I'm not sure that's the best idea…"

"They're just keeping me here because they think I'm gonna try to hurt myself."

"Are you?"

"No!"

It was true, they were keeping her under observation because they were convinced she jumped off the bridge. He knew that wasn't what happened. Her chart, which he'd nosed around in, reported that her physical condition was perfectly fine. "Okay, tell you what, detective, we can go home in a few hours when the drugs wear off. Let me just go get your paperwork."

He stood up to get the nurse when she grabbed his sleeve and turned him around. He looked up from her hand and found her staring helplessly into his eyes.

"I'll be right back, don't worry," he reassured with a perplexed smile.

* * *

By the time they released her, it was morning. She was much more alert as she followed him to the car. He was tired, too, having stayed awake for several days now, which was one of the reasons why they rode in silence. When they pulled up in front of her house, he jogged around to the other side and helped her out of the car. She froze for a moment when he shut the door behind her, then continued walking. He was starting to notice that she was unusually easy to startle, though that was not altogether unusual after having been abducted… by angels… shit.

At the steps, she fumbled with her keys for several minutes. He watched her patiently, gathering his observations together to try to figure out what's going on. She finally sighed in frustration and he took the key ring from her. "Please, allow me." He had no trouble unlocking her door and ushered her in.

The house was bathed in brash daylight. He followed her upstairs and closed the blackout curtains in her bedroom while she kicked off her shoes and slumped down on the edge of the bed. The brightness in the room died down and the atmosphere suddenly felt less strained. When he turned around, she seemed to be looking at the floor.

He approached her cautiously. "Are you alright? Ah, sorry, stupid question…"

She didn't respond, but looked up at him. Her expression was uneasy and she seemed to be struggling with something. She reached out her hand and he noticed that it was trembling. He knelt down in front of her so that she was now looking down at him. His curiosity was killing him and he knew they'd have to talk about it eventually, but she looked so worn out that he couldn't bring himself to start that conversation. Instead, he said, "You ought to get some rest."

"Will you… umm, will you stay with me?"

"If that's what you wish."

"I don't want to be alone…"

"You don't have to explain," he shook his head and got up, eyeing her. She was still wearing her clothes from the other night, which now smelled faintly like seawater. Her hair was tussled. She looked a bit like a mermaid distraught about being on land. "You must be uncomfortable. Come on, then."

He tugged on her hands and pulled her up. Walking backward and occasionally glancing behind himself to see, he walked her to the bathroom. She seemed too much in a stupor to question it. Once they were inside, he let go of her hands.

"Right! So then, in you go," he gestured toward the shower.

She stood staring blankly at him.

"What?"

Her glance wandered away toward the mirror, but remained indifferent to her surroundings.

He frowned. "Look, detective, I am more than happy to jump right in there with you, but I thought perhaps you'd appreciate some privacy. Go on then, I'll be outside. Are you feeling up t—"

He stopped mid-sentence as she reached under her black turtleneck and, in one smooth move, whipped it off of herself and tossed it onto the ground. She had a funny way of drifting in and out the whole night. One moment she was herself, and the next she was completely detached. He stood there contemplating this and staring at her black lace bra like a deer in the headlights. Though he didn't have to imagine what was under it, it was an image that had already burned into his memory, and he couldn't look away until she started to unzip her pants. The sound of the zipper broke him out of his trance and he cleared his throat, hoping to remind her that he was still there if she'd accidentally forgotten.

But she was already turning around to walk to the shower and the only word she said was, "Out."

He obeyed.

* * *

He wandered down to the kitchen and stared blankly into her refrigerator. Before him was a sight of complete and utter monotony: fruits, vegetables, basic dairy products, all piled neatly side by side. Not a trace of dessert or anything exciting at all. He sighed. But _of course_ the detective would keep a healthy diet in her tediously organized kitchen. Suddenly, an idea crossed his mind and he took out an egg and a carton of whipping cream. He rummaged around her cupboards, taking out some sugar and praying to find dark chocolate. He grinned at his success, extracting a Ghirardelli bar hidden in the back of the top shelf. _Yes, this'll do._

Meanwhile, Chloe let the water run over her head, hoping it would clear away some of the bewilderment. Fragments of the night at the docks kept flashing in her head, but what was perhaps more disturbing was that she remembered nothing after that until she awoke on the shore with Lucifer leaning over her. At sunset. She didn't know how long she was gone. She had no idea what happened in that time. A cap suddenly popped off a bottle of shampoo and ricocheted off the ground as she realized she'd been squeezing it.

Downstairs, Lucifer loaded all of the ingredients into the mixer and was humming to himself as he added a splash of Amaretto before turning it on. Its hum melded with the distant sound of running water to form a mind-numbing euphony of white noise. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the counter. It's likely that she won't want to eat, but there's no way she'll be able to resist chocolate mousse, strawberries, and wine. He mentally patted himself on the back and imagined bringing these upstairs. Perhaps he'll find her waiting in her bedroom, in front of the mirror again with that yellow dress… his hand slipped off the counter and he barely caught himself. Oops. Back to the present, then.

He arranged the mousse neatly into 2 martini glasses and set them on a tray next to the wine glasses and bowl of strawberries. It had been quite some time. Did the detective always have a propensity for taking such long showers? He carried the tray upstairs carefully and set it on her nightstand. Then, he sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at himself in the mirror. He was wearing a suit and it suddenly seemed stifling, so he took off his jacket and set it on the back of a chair, then looked around the room awkwardly, no longer having a way to entertain himself. Perhaps he should go check on her, he thought, loosening his necktie and kicking off his shoes.

He stopped at the bathroom door, in the middle of rolling up his sleeves halfway, and knocked. No answer. "Detective, are you still in there?" There was the sound of running water, so yes, it was a safe bet that she was still there. _Idiot,_ he mentally scolded himself. "Is everything alright? Do you need anything?"

There was still no answer. He looked at his watch. It had been almost an hour. "Detective…" he bit his lip, "Could you just tell me you haven't drowned, please?"

Still nothing. _Wait._ What if something did happen? She almost drowned earlier today, what if the water reminded her of it? What if she slipped and fell and cracked her fragile little skull open? He mentally kicked himself for both worrying and not worrying soon enough and made up his mind. "Okay, seriously, I'm just going to come in and make sure you're—" He opened the door and found her sitting on the shower floor hugging her knees.

"Oh dear."

She didn't look at him, but continued to rock slightly back and forth. _Oh no. The poor thing._ The realization suddenly hit him. He could only imagine what she might've seen. It must be so frightening for a human, like he felt when he first woke up in LA. He closed the door behind him and slowly strode toward the shower.

Barefoot, but fully clothed, he stepped into the water and knelt down beside her. She grabbed on to his arm. They sat in silence like that for a while, letting the water run over them. Finally, he spoke in a soft tone, "Chloe, what happened?"

She sighed. "I have no idea."

"It's alright, you can tell me."

"I wish I could, but I don't remember anything."

He looked at her incredulously as she continued.

"I remember waking up soaking wet, and I remember the docks the night before… Was it the night before? How long was I gone? Where did I go? How?"

She was starting to get worked up and he silently hoped that she might've forgotten that one moment right before they took her.

"I just… the last thing I remember…" she hesitated. His breath caught in his throat. "There were two men… They had no weapons, no guards… I thought they were so stupid. I ran out to apprehend them and then…"

He waited anxiously. She seemed to be searching for words. Suddenly, she laughed. "I must be losing my entire goddamn mind."

He didn't know whether to be disturbed or relieved until she stood up and burst out crying.

"I don't know what's happening. Lucifer, I think I might be crazy! I have no idea what happened to me!"

He followed her up, trying (not too) carefully to avoid looking below her face. "Shh, it's okay."

"It's not okay! I'm… I must be insane!"

"Why?"

"Because the last thing I remember, oh, you're gonna think this is hilarious. The last thing I remember is seeing you on the other side with glowing red eyes."

There it was, the thing he dreaded most, yet he couldn't bring himself to lie and deny it. Perhaps he couldn't bear to deceive her anymore, or maybe he really wanted, _needed_ her to _know_ him. Either way, his next words spilled out before he could think them through. "No, you're not crazy."

"…This isn't funny."

"I'm not joking."

Now she looked at him like he was crazy.

He hesitated. _This isn't a good decision,_ his mind protested, but he'd always been drawn to the bad ones anyway. Before he could overthink it any more, he closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he let just a faint aura of red glow around his pupils. It swirled like hazy smoke.

She shrieked and stumbled backward. He blinked back to his normal eyes and caught her by her elbows. Her eyes were wider than he'd ever seen them. He searched them for clues to what was going through her head.

In reality, her mind was completely blank. She couldn't even begin to wrap her head around what she'd just seen and everything that it necessitated. She put her hand on his chest, staring with her mouth gaping open. The sound of the water finally broke through the tension between them and her questions began to pour like a waterfall. "Wait, so… so you're not shitting me, you're actually…"

"Afraid so."

She laughed, "Which means that…"

"Yep."

"And… I mean, my Judeo-Christian mythology is rusty, but…"

"Yyyyeah, that's not really how it works anyway…"

"But… you're…"

He cocked his head to the side, waiting for her to formulate a complete thought.

"You're… oh God, I'm going to hell."

The corners of his lips curled into a grin. "What, because of that thing with Nina in 8th grade?"

She gasped.

"Oh yeah, I know about that," he winked. Now it was his turn to burst out laughing. He found her innocence particularly ironic. "Ohhh, detective, no. No, no. Although," he looked her up and down, "there's still time."

The color drained from her face and concentrated in her cheeks.

"I'm kidding! Oh, bloody hell, it's just a joke. Mostly."

Alas, she was already lost in thought and her face had grown serious and distant again. She turned away, murmuring under her breath as her thoughts worked to untangle the mess.

"No, no… Chloe, come on, stay with me!" He turned her cheek back towards him. It was a moment of vulnerability for both of them and he desperately needed her to be there in it with him. It had possibly taken the last of his bravery to share this with her and he didn't know if he would do it again.

She put her hand back on his chest, slowly feeling for a heartbeat under the clinging wet button-down. He had a heartbeat. It was there. He was real. She wasn't sure what exactly he was, or what she just saw, but—

"I'm real," he reassured, almost like he'd read her mind. _Oh God,_ could he read her mind? Could he tell what she was thinking about right now, how she wanted to take that shirt off of him? Did he hear every dirty thought that bounced around her head?

He didn't answer, but covered her hand with his. She glanced up to find him searching her eyes and she was caught, caught in his stare. She couldn't look away. Neither could he, it seemed, as he slowly reached up and unbuttoned the top button of his wet shirt. The water ran over his shoulders and down his collarbones, which she could tell the outlines of underneath as he undid the next button just as slowly and wordlessly as the first. She could see, now, that the water gathered into a single stream that ran down the middle of his chest and disappeared in the place where the third button was until he undid that one too, and the next, and the next. She couldn't restrain herself any longer and snaked her hands into the opening, running them apart toward his shoulders. He breathed into her touch. His skin was smooth as velvet. His muscles were perfectly toned. The little bit of his body that was open to her right now was so _sinful,_ she wasn't sure she could handle more.

He stood still and pliant and allowed her to slip the shirt off of his arms and onto the floor. She then slid her hands up his biceps and back toward the middle of his chest. It felt like the shower had turned hotter. The steam was gathering around them and had clouded up the glass and mirrors, locking them into the middle of its mist. She could feel energy radiating off of his skin and it drove her crazy. All of her questions had at once been replaced with a single thought, the impression of his presence. It flooded all of her senses. It was the only thing she could feel. She just wanted him closer, closer, everywhere, all over her. Why was he standing still? Why weren't his hands on her? And if he could read her mind, why hadn't he—

"Your thoughts are safe," he cut them off, "I cannot read your mind. I mean, I guess I could if I really needed to, but most of the time I find that it's… unnecessary…"

His voice prompted her to look up at him again and find that he was regarding her face carefully. His words echoed like layered chants, like the devil whispering in her ear. They seemed to come from everywhere at once. He looked into her eyes, then at her lips, then at her eyes again, and his own seemed to be daring her to act, watching to see what she'll do.

She couldn't take it any longer. She dug her nails into his skin and reached for his lips. He took a step backward, unprepared for her sudden forcefulness, and allowed her to kiss him. The second their lips touched, it was like a paralyzing surge shot through their bodies. He felt it too. It stopped them from moving, breathing, even their hearts from beating for a moment. Then, time seemed to resume and he took a step toward her, cupping her cheeks in his hands. He kissed her softly, gently, but hungrily, giving her just a taste but holding back the flood. One of his hands slipped behind her ear into her hair, through which the water flowed like a river. The other found its way down her throat, then just his fingertips traced down between her breasts and wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. He kissed her harder until she moaned into his mouth. He carefully curled his hand into a fist and pulled her hair back, exposing her throat. The scent of her skin spun his head as he traced her artery with his teeth, then his tongue.

She ran her fingers through his silky hair and pulled him closer, harder into her skin. He seemed to smile against her neck. She could barely breathe. His hold loosened on her hair and this hand, too, slid down her shoulder before tracing over the outline of her breast, his ring finger just barely brushing her nipple. She inhaled into this sensation, hoping that he would go back. He seemed to read exactly what she wanted him to do, as his palm now slid from her abdomen up to her chest. He gave it a firm squeeze and rubbed his thumb over the center, quickly replacing it with his lips. She thought her breathlessness might cause her chest to implode. She was helpless in the best way. She never wanted it to end. He was never allowed to stop.

She tugged impatiently at his belt, but he brushed her hand away and pinned it to the glass above her head. _"Uh-uh-uh,"_ he muttered, smirking into her lips before capturing them again in a kiss. She protested, now reaching for his belt with her other hand, but he caught this one too and laced his fingers through it. He nipped at her bottom lip, drawing a satisfying whine out of her. Meanwhile, she brought his hand up to her mouth and broke away to place two of his fingers inside. He uttered an amused _mmm_ and let her tighten her lips over them for a moment before drawing them out and running them down her mouth in a shush motion. Ignoring the pouring water and gazing directly into her eyes, he put the fingers in his own mouth, then led his hand down. Her breath quickened as he slipped them inside of her. She uttered a faint _"ahh"_ and he closed his mouth over hers. There would be no more words, only a few minutes of her holding on to his shoulders for dear life. A few minutes, that's all it took for her to dig her claws so hard into his skin that she nearly drew blood. He swallowed her high-pitched whimpers and held her closer until she stopped holding her breath. Then, he released her and stood grinning in the running water. Just for show, he placed his fingers back in his mouth as she watched him, panting and grabbing on to the walls behind her.

"Okay, detective, I do believe that's quite enough for today," he finally spoke, still grinning.

She couldn't find it in herself to summon any words, so she just watched as he picked up his shirt and stepped out of the shower, leaving her to finish her routine.


	13. Chapter 13: The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter 13.

When she finally came out of the shower, she lingered in the doorway of her bedroom. He smiled at her playfully from the bed where he was now watching old timey television, popping strawberries into his mouth, unceremoniously naked under a sheet that covered up to his waist. She blinked a couple of times, expecting the sight before her to disappear.

He tapped the bed next to him. "Do come join me. I'm watching the most whimsical program! There's a cat and a dog, and…" She slunk around the perimeter of the room into her closet while he continued to tell her the plot. There, she quickly changed out of her towel into a heather blue nightgown and robe. Despite what had just transpired, she felt the need to be appropriately covered up. Or maybe it's because of it that she felt so exposed. One thing was for sure, it snapped her back to her senses. All of them. So many senses. So few thoughts. Blissful ignorance, expertly orchestrated by… oh God, she had been completely naked in front of him, for the second time, and she let him, she practically _begged_ him to… and he did, and it was, _oh…_ she'd never met a man who could do _that_ with his hands…

"…and then the husband opened the door and the cat flew directly into his face!" He finished laughing and paused for a moment, having noticed her standing dewy-eyed in the doorway of her walk-in closet. "Detective," he whined, "you didn't hear a word I just said!"

She practically jumped when her mind registered that statement.

"Oh, umm… yeah, no, the, the… the husband… door…?"

His mouth curved into a wicked grin. "I seem to have interrupted a train of thought there. Apologies."

"No, it wasn't… I just…"

"Mmm, I'm _sure,"_ he lured, picking up his glass of wine and taking a long sip while tormenting her with his evocative stare.

She bit her lip to suppress a creeping smile and briefly looked away. He took the moment to notice how the skirt of her gown hit her mid-thigh, leaving only her long tan legs exposed. Her face looked fresh and waves were beginning to appear in her damp hair. She looked simultaneously self-conscious and at ease. He smiled to himself.

"Don't worry, I won't kiss and tell if you won't," he said, half to tease and half to dissuade her fears. She cautiously climbed up next to him and he handed her a glass of chocolate mousse.

"Where did this come from?" she looked surprised.

"Oh, it took a little time to make," he waved his hands.

"You even put chocolate shavings on top!" she giggled.

He feigned offense. "Presentation is key!"

She put a spoonful in her mouth. It was delicious. Decadent. He could easily be a chef. He could easily be a lot of things. Her mind was really tired of trying to make sense of everything. She let her head fall on his shoulder and focused on the black-and-white TV show he was watching. He wrapped an arm around her and it wasn't long before her eyes were closed and she was asleep.

They slept for the remainder of the day and most of the night, both exhausted and happy to finally be able to get some rest. It wasn't until the wee hours of the morning when he awoke to find himself holding her in his arms. It was strange. He'd woken up next to others before, certainly, but they were always draped over him. He was never the one lying on his side cradling them to his chest. Here, with his arms around her, he felt an unfamiliar wholeness.

He carefully untangled himself and got his clothes out of the dryer to get dressed. A car was waiting for him outside, judging by the time. No matter.

He sat down by her and looked at her sleeping, so peaceful. She wouldn't remain that way for long. _When she wakes, she'll have a million questions and fears,_ he thought somberly. She'll need some time.

He roused her gently with a hand on her cheek. Another thing he's never done before.

"Hmm?" she murmured, only halfway out of sleep.

"Darling, I don't want you to think I'm skipping out on you, but I must attend to a few things," he whispered. "When you're ready, come find me at Lux."

"Mmm… okay…" she automatically reached for him, eyes still closed. His instinct was to draw away, but he bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. It was too familial a gesture, he was afraid, but she was barely awake. It was in this half dreaming state that people's true nature came to the surface – like alcohol, sleep sapped the judicious parts of the brain. In this state, she wasn't worried about censoring her behavior, and the thing she chose to do was to be warmly affectionate toward him. He was unprepared to receive this sign of genuine care.

He didn't dare to think that she might actually _love_ him, somewhere deep in her heart. He had no idea what that meant, anyway. He wished he knew, because then he might know whether or not that's how he felt about her, a thought that's been bothering him for some time now. How could he know, though? The devil wasn't created to love. It was a foolish human emotion. It tempted and brought so many into his realm. Made his job quite easy, actually. It wasn't for him, and he considered himself above it. No, his care for her was certainly something else, and she wasn't a fool either. Their relationship was different.

In the doorway of her bedroom, he took one last look and noticed that she'd rolled over to the other side, getting back to what he hoped were blissful dreams, for soon they might turn to nightmares. This was the calm before the storm.


	14. Chapter 14: Philosophy

Chapter 14.

It didn't take long at all for Chloe to make her way to Lux. She was propelled by so much anxiety and curiosity, she may as well have flown there. Plus, she'd spent so long pacing already that there was simply nothing left to do. She needed to be where the answers were. So, here she was, marching up the steps and looking hopefully at the bouncer.

Lux had a reputation for its exceptional catering to exclusive clientele. The bouncer told her to hold out her hand and swiftly wrapped a red ribbon around it. _Too classy for wristbands, apparently,_ Chloe thought to herself.

"VIP," he said curtly.

They certainly had the VIP list memorized by name and face, but Chloe didn't have very long to feel special as she was ushered in by a hostess and led to a separate room.

"No, no, thank you, but you don't understand. I'm just here to see Lucifer," she protested.

"Sure, honey." The hostess gave her a knowing wink and steered her onto one of several oval couches. This room wasn't entirely private – there were several other couches, most of them filled with groups of people laughing and celebrating. Chloe was the only one who sat alone. On another day, she might've felt self-conscious. She made a move to get up when the lights turned off and a spotlight appeared on a small stage in front of her. She looked at it, bewildered. _What on earth…_

The answer came in the form of fog pouring out from behind a curtain, followed by six men. One by one, they emerged from the mist, dressed in full suits, parading in sync to slow drawled-out cabaret music. Disco balls began to throw snowing lights around the room. To make matters even more surreal, hands suddenly appeared on her shoulders and pushed her down into her seat.

She glanced behind her to find two muscular, ruggedly handsome men shake their fingers at her in sync. One of them brought her a red-colored drink in a modernist martini glass while the other massaged her shoulders. She was frankly too caught off guard to object. She certainly wasn't expecting male entertainment.

On the same beat, the men all took off their blazers. They moved in perfect synchrony to the music. The fluidity of their movement was actually quite impressive. Chloe was a bit in shock as she watched them twist into lissome shapes as if they had no bones. _Male strippers?_

They slowly unbuttoned their shirts, much to her distress at a certain flashback, and tossed them down to the floor. All of a sudden, the beat picked up and they ripped off their pants in one smooth preposterous movement, revealing black briefs with tuxedo designs on them. That was all the clothing left on besides their black ties. It was really quite a comical sight. Yes, they were all very impressive, but she wasn't here for this kind of entertainment.

Half of the dancers from the stage got on all fours and began to crawl towards her. She tried to edge back into her seat when they planted their hands around her legs and licked their lips. While she was busy keeping them at bay, she didn't notice that someone tapped the dancer behind her on the shoulder and the hands now rubbing her neck had switched. The man behind her leaned down to her ear and whispered, "It's your lucky night, the _puppies_ will do anything you ask, and I do mean _anything._ "

She jumped out of her seat, startling the dancers. "Lucifer!"

He met her eye with a cheeky grin. She gestured incoherently, unable to produce any words, which only made his grin wider. He adored making this kind of entrance.

"Shall we take them upstairs with us?" He teased, not waiting for a reply. "Puppies!" He clapped his hands.

" _NO!"_ Chloe yelled, a little louder than she intended.

He raised an eyebrow and laughed for a few moments, then waved them back to their routine. "Detective, you're awfully easy to fluster today. What's the matter, you don't like the Hellhounds?"

"Hellhounds?"

He gesticulated his sincerity with his eyebrows.

"…Really, Hellhounds?" she covered her face with her hands. "Look, can we just…"

He bowed and nodded before she could finish and placed a hand on the small of her back to escort her to the elevator.

Upstairs, he led the way to his private bar and poured them a couple of drinks. She took the glass he offered her and looked around awkwardly, avoiding being the first to speak. He surveyed her and gestured to the sofas, realizing he would need to be the one to start this conversation.

"So," he sprawled out and took a sip of scotch, "I imagine you have some… questions."

Chloe looked down at her drink, exhaled, and finished it in one gulp while he watched in astonishment.

"I don't know where to begin."

"Well, which part would you like to talk about," he leaned forward, "the devil part or the…" his voice trailed off into a smirk.

"Yes, that! …The devil part, that is. Obviously. Of course." She quickly folded her legs under her, eager to change positions. He chuckled at her unease and let silence fill the room so she would be forced to figure out a question.

"Uh… so… umm… you're…"

He raised his eyebrows, silently telling her that he expects her to use her words.

"No," she shook her head. "I must be going crazy. This is ridiculous!"

 _One step forward, two steps back,_ he sighed. "Detective, we've been over this. You really aren't."

She laughed. "That's… ohh, that's… you know, I spent the entire day pacing, trying to figure out what I saw. I mean, how'd you do it? A trick of the light? Contact lenses? Drugs?"

"Drugs? Oh my, that really would be something, wouldn't it?"

"Then how?" she demanded.

He cocked his head to the side. "You already know the answer to that question."

She bit her lip nervously.

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Okay, fine, I can comprehend how all of this might be a bit difficult to accept and you've come here for reassurance." He looked off to the side, trying to find a satisfactory way to explain things. "Look, I need you to know something. I meant it when I said I would never lie to you."

She was looking at him with cautious expectation. "I _want_ to believe you."

"Then do."

"But… if what you say is true, if you really are… the devil… I mean," she laughed, "that would mean that there's a devil! And a God. And heaven, and hell…" She stood up and began pacing now. "And angels, and demons, and a divine plan, and…"

"Ahh, an atheist, were you?" he leaned back in his seat again, watching her count on her fingers.

"…and if there's a hell, and I'm sitting here across from the devil, surely there's a special circle in there just for me."

Lucifer's nose scrunched up with laughter in a way that looked like he was almost giggling. He seemed to find something about that statement incredibly funny.

Chloe was not amused, however. "And if… and… I never baptized Trixie… and I don't pray… and I drink and I swear, and I don't… and why are you even here? Aren't you supposed to be in hell, whispering into sinners' ears or something equally sinister?"

He pursed his lips. "Now you're just stereotyping."

She waved her arms. "Is the world coming to an end?"

"Not particularly more so than usual…"

"Am I in hell right now? Am I dead? Is this all an illusion? Are we in the Matrix? What the _fuck_ is going on?"

He folded his arms, chuckling under his breath. "There was a philosophy professor once who called this kind of thinking 'mental masturbation.' Most people will never have an answer to those questions until they actually die. Being friends with me, however, affords you certain privileges, I suppose." He paused and locked eyes with her to make sure he had her attention. "No, you're not dead. No, this is not in your head."

"You know what I really don't get?" She sat down on the edge of the seat. "The devil is supposed to be the… the embodiment of all evil. So the devil is the worst of sins – betrayal, genocide, child abuse, rape—"

"Whoa there," he stood up in a sudden flash of anger. "I will not be spoken of this way!"

Chloe fell silent, looking at him with earnest perplexity.

"I punish those who commit the sins," he explained through gritted teeth. "I don't make people do anything. And contrary to popular belief, I don't even encourage it. You think I stand for—"

"No, I _don't!_ I believe that you don't. The man I know… doesn't. That's exactly my point, though. You…" she gestured him up and down, "don't make sense."

He sat down again and furrowed his brow in thought. She waited while he formed his explanation.

"How many different versions of 'the devil' have you heard of?" he suddenly asked.

She was caught off guard by the question. "I don't know what you mean. Like from the bible?"

"There are many religions on this planet, Chloe, and many holy books. There are many false prophets, too. Businessmen, for instance, looking to prey on people's fears. They also preach of me. Then you all make your movies, your TV shows, fiction, nonfiction, and you know what's peculiar about all of these things?"

"…None of them agree?"

"Precisely. Humanity is fascinated with defining the divine, but utterly incapable of perceiving it. In some versions, I am as powerful as God, his direct opposite. In others, I have arbitrary limitations – like that I cannot kill, cannot leave hell, cannot touch holy objects, cannot cross the threshold of a church. Sometimes I am handsome and charming, and sometimes I am a creature of nightmares. And these churches and these preachers, how they love to speak for me! They say that homosexuality is evil. The irony! I am to punish _love,_ Chloe! Or, they say that I persuade mass murderers into their rages. They even managed to blame half the world's population, and I am talking about women now, for all of the world's misfortunes. For, in their myths, it was Eve who caused humanity to be cast out of paradise." He paused and laughed. "It's kind of funny, you see, because God told Adam not to eat from the tree of knowledge. He never told Eve. Adam let her take the first bite. Now, there's a metaphor for you."

Chloe listened quietly, struggling but keen to keep up.

"They blame every last inadequacy on me, and simultaneously on you. Truly, I almost feel sorry for the humans. Every action your churches designate a 'sin' is my doing, but your fault. Now, how does any of that make any sense?"

He took a sip from his glass and continued. "These are the same voices that attempt to blame me for the darkest of human acts." He looked genuinely disgusted as he spat out the words, "Murder. Violence. Assault… against those who are defenseless and innocent…" He noticed her looking at him with sadness out of the corner of his eye, but it wasn't enough to calm the rage burning inside him. "Is that forever what I am in the eyes of your world?"

She shook her head tearfully and his expression softened.

"You are a kind woman, Chloe. Don't pity me. I've shouldered the blame for longer than you can imagine."

"But… it isn't fair."

He smiled into his glass before finishing it. "Well, you know what they say, life isn't fair."

Chloe looked down at the floor, mulling over his words. When she finally looked up at him, he felt oddly exposed.

"So then… why are you here?"

"I took a vacation."

"Why did you choose here, with me?"

He considered her question for a moment. "Perhaps it's destiny."

"Destiny? Is that a thing?"

"So is free will, mind you. Contrary to popular belief, the two aren't mutually exclusive."

"So you think it was fate that we met?"

He looked her in the eye and asked, "What do you think?"

She felt her breath catch in her throat. "All I know is that I… I really enjoy working with you."

"Likewise, detective. Likewise." His voice trailed off and he seemed lost in thought for a while. Chloe wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't fair to expect him to clear up all of her doubts, but questions still burned in the back of her mind. She wasn't even sure what they were until he spoke again. "Why don't you ask me what you really want to know?"

She took a deep breath and blurted out before she could stop herself, "Who are you? And how do I fit in?"

He smiled. "Now _those_ are excellent questions."


	15. Chapter 15: Out of My Depth

_Super short chapter for you guys, sorry, but it seemed appropriate to stick with this mood before getting into more (ugh) plot development. I also wanted to take a moment to say thank you. Your reviews make me smile. And those of you who leave multiple and tell me to keep going, thank you! I see you, and you're amazing, and I'm so grateful to all of you for reading._

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Chapter 15.

They sipped wine and philosophized well into the night. Every answer only brought up more questions. Chloe's insatiable curiosity drove through the exhaustion that had long since begun to weigh down her mind and limbs. Lucifer, on the other hand, showed no signs of fatigue. He kept up with her queries like an enthusiastic child stamping cookie shapes into batter for the first time. So, here they were, sitting with their legs folded under them on opposite sides of the couch, eagerly leaning into the conversation that bounced between their bubble wine glasses and flickered like candles against the amber lighting of the bar.

Lucifer's exhilaration drifted just outside of his consciousness. He lapped up Chloe's attention like a cat that got his paws on sweet cream. He hadn't planned to tell her, ever. He didn't think she would believe him. He could see that she still had her reservations, but he could also see the gears of her mind turning and trying to comprehend. Was it even possible? _Who cares…_ Surely, if any human could understand, it would be her. Her, with her beautiful hair and her bright mind and her peculiar way of not responding to things like the rest. Ordinary her, with a child and a shitty ex and insecurities, and all the extraordinariness that he seemed to find in every action and word. Truly, there was no being like her. She was his father's masterpiece, he thought. _Maybe they're all masterpieces in a way,_ a voice chimed in, but he wasn't paying attention. The low lights reflected in her hair like gold that flowed in ribbons when he changed the angle from which he was looking, back and forth, like waves in the sea. He'd absent-mindedly woven his fingertips through it as she talked about her early childhood experiences with religion. Her grandmother was a Catholic (suddenly the trait guilt made sense) and took her to Sunday services sometimes. She liked watching the candles and the echo of the choir. She always wondered why the saints looked so somber. She thought they were mad at her for doing this or that, but Mary's face always seemed kind. Ironically, Lucifer felt the same serenity from watching Chloe that she'd felt as a child looking at statues of the Mother of God. He'd been finding more and more divinity in little, quiet moments, the kind of divinity that didn't infuriate him for a change. It was all very unusual.

Chloe was slowly giving in to gravity. She shifted around and laid her head in his lap while he told her about the man that grew obsessed with his wings. He set aside her empty glass and his eyes seemed to cloud over with something like fear when he told her about how he burned his wings on the beach. She put her hand on his arm. "It's okay."

He looked at her with uncertainty.

"I get why you did it."

"You do?"

"Yeah. It's like a young star being known as a good girl, and all she wants is to be taken seriously, so she parties and dirties her image until they can no longer put her in that one-dimensional box."

"…Indeed." He suddenly felt relieved, from something he didn't even know, like the pressure of her hand had sapped the worry from his body. "Was that your experience, when you made your movie?"

Chloe was somewhat impressed that this didn't come as a boob reference. Perhaps he was getting tired, after all. "Yeah, kind of. I guess… people only saw me a certain way after that."

"And it strengthened your resolve to become a detective and show them that you're more."

"Yeah." For all the social faux pas, he had times of being surprisingly perceptive. Maybe the reason she felt so comfortable around him is that, when it mattered, he understood her.

They both stared at the ceiling in peaceful silence as he unconsciously stroked her hair and she ran her thumb over his sleeve. The lights glimmered and slowly melted like candles out of focus. Chloe closed her eyes just for a moment and barely noticed as he got up and turned the lamps off, one by one, until he picked her up and carried her wordlessly to the bed. She nestled her face into the crook of his neck. Rays of pale moonlight crept in from the windows, but for the most part, they were in complete darkness. He set her down carefully and fixed the pillows under her before he picked up her hand to give it one last kiss. He thought she was already asleep when he turned to go, but she grabbed his wrist and whispered, "Stay."

He hesitated, unsure why. Was there some semblance of propriety left that convinced him he should pay homage to their professional relationship, or was he afraid of what might happen if he opened himself up to this experience? If he climbed into bed with her, would he ever be able to get up, and more importantly, would she?

" _Stay,"_ she repeated insistently. The hushed shadow of her voice was sweet like honey and he felt caught in it like a fly, so he chose to be brave and put aside his defenses for a moment. She was half asleep anyway. He climbed into bed beside her and she happily pulled him into her arms. He lay there, petrified at first, but the steady rise and fall of her bosom soon lulled him into contentment.

"Chloe, I…" he whispered to her sleeping form, taking comfort in the fact that she wouldn't hear him, "I think I'm out of my depth here."

There was something growing deep inside of him that he didn't understand and it was starting to scratch at the surface, demanding to come out. It made him want to scream, but he didn't know the words. With his face on her shoulder, he draped his arm across and buried his fingers once again in her hair, which smelled like almonds and figs. She seemed to him, in that moment, like a goddess of the hearth and harvest of old, and he felt safe beside her. She was like autumn leaves scattering around his mind, telling him that the season was changing, and he fell in and allowed the wind to carry him. He dreamt of flying.


	16. Chapter 16: Death and Life

Chapter 16.

The tingling ray of sunlight on his cheek finally pulled Lucifer out of his sleep. He lay there for a few moments with his eyes closed, feeling unusually soothed and half afraid it was all still a part of the dream. The smell of coffee and the sound of drapes swaying reached him at the same time with a gust of summer wind. He opened his eyes to find Chloe standing by the balcony doors, bathed in sunlight. The wind that blew the sheer curtains to either side also ruffled her sandy hair as she turned to look at him with a big cup of coffee in her hands. His eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the light yet, but despite the sun igniting her outline and throwing shadows on her face, he thought he saw her smile.

"You're awake!" Her melodious voice outpaced her walking toward him. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Surely, this must be a dream or a delusion of some sort. The sunlight and the coffee and her smile were all too make-believe, eerily perfect, like the ironically happy scene in a movie that exists solely to twist the knife when you realize it's only a dream. Still, as this delusion stood over his bed and he regarded her with caution, he couldn't resist the mirage.

She sat down by his side and handed him a cup that was waiting on the nightstand. He accepted it with wordless incredulity.

"Forgive me, detective, I must be missing bits and pieces of my memory."

"Hmm?" She raised her eyebrows, taking a sip from her cup.

He looked down at the coffee. It smelled satisfying. Had she gotten up before him and prepared it? How long had he been asleep? He shifted under the covers. "Did you make this?"

"Yeah. I hope you don't mind, I didn't want to wake you, so I just looked around the kitchen."

"Oh. Yeah, no, that's fine… Thank you."

She smiled and took another sip with him.

"I'm sorry," he put aside his cup and narrowed his eyes, "It's delicious, I just… I don't understand, umm…"

"What?" She looked confused now. "What's wrong?"

He waved his arms, uncharacteristically uncomfortable speaking without euphemisms. "Have I done something to earn… all of this, waking up to fresh coffee, to you? You know, last night, did we…?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh. I'm sorry, do you want me to leave?"

"No!" he cut her off and clasped a hand around her arm just for extra assurance. "No, don't. I was just wondering as to the occasion."

She looked down at his hand clinging to her arm, then up at his eyes where his confusion finally registered. "Oh, no, we didn't have sex, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh. Oh, that's _unfortunate_ ," He quickly recovered, his usual persona taking over as he reached back for the coffee, but she wasn't about to let him slip away that easy.

"Let's go to the city."

"What?" He looked confused again.

"The city! Today. It's a beautiful day and if you don't have any plans, I was wondering if you might like to go with me."

"To the city?"

"Yes," she laughed.

"…Uh, alright. I'd love to."

When they finished their coffee, Chloe gathered up the cups while he went to get ready. She was examining his piano when he finally emerged from the depths of the bedrooms, looking sharp in one of his signature black suits. She looked him up and down.

"You're awfully dressed up for a day out, don't you think?" she giggled.

He furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

She sauntered over and tugged at his tie, loosening the knot. "I mean, it's hot and casual, and you might be more comfortable in something less expensive."

For a moment, he looked as if he took it as a personal criticism, but she had a point. He helped her remove his tie and set the jacket aside. "Better?" he asked, rolling up the sleeves.

She nodded, biting the smile creeping upon her lip.

They walked past the empty bar downstairs and he got ready to call for a car, but she stopped him.

"Let's walk."

He groaned.

"Come on, it's close! It'll be fun."

"Very well. A backstreet adventure, then."

"Don't worry, I'll protect you," she teased.

They walked through the sunny streets, passing couples and kids enjoying a day off. The sounds of the city intensified into a cheery buzz when they reached downtown. Chloe had laced her arm around his elbow. There were balloons and banners stretching between the buildings beneath which the buses and cabs wove in and out. People rotated through the doors of boutiques and coffee shops, all to the sound of children laughing as they raced after each other.

"So, detective, now that we're here, what shall we do?" Lucifer smiled, patting the hand on his sleeve.

She looked around and spotted a couple of covered stands across the street. "Let's go shopping!"

He glanced up at the street sign. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but the shopping center is several blocks back."

"No," she laughed, "We're not going to Prada, Mr. Fancypants. Look, there's a market right over there."

He tried to object with a whiny sigh, but she pulled his arm along when the light turned green. Once on the other side, she broke away and hurried to the first stand. It was full of hats. He watched while she picked up a pink fascinator and held it next to her hair, making a face. She looked, for a moment, like a debutante at her first derby. He stifled his laughter.

She picked up another hat, a big straw one with a red and white polka dot ribbon this time, and placed it on her head. The shopkeeper brought her a mirror and she twirled in front of it, fantasizing about what it might've been like to live in an age when one might wear this to a game of croquet.

Lucifer had now joined her. He stood watching her for a few moments, unsure of what his role was in this particular setting until something caught his eye. Chloe turned to see him reaching up high to bring down a big round Breakfast at Tiffany's hat. It was black with a cream scarf wrapped around it, slightly angled down at the brim, and overall looked very French. She obliged and took it from him to try it on. Observing herself in the mirror, she rather liked how her reflection reminded her of Audrey Hepburn. Naturally, the hat suited her quite well. He had a good eye for that sort of thing.

She turned and made an exaggerated gesture of batting her eyes at him, expecting him to laugh, but he just stared at her with his mouth slightly open. He looked at her like a boy looking at the sun, for just a fraction of a second, and then the boy was quickly replaced with a sly eyebrow raise. He slipped the owner some cash while she laughed and they continued walking among the stalls.

She looked like quite the sight in her leather jacket and the floppy sun hat. Somehow, oddly enough, it all went well together, with the softness of the silk ribbon rounding out the edges of the asymmetrical zippers. Small heels clicked on the pavement below her fitted jeans. She wasn't trying to look any certain way, like the women that he got used to walking beside. She didn't seem to care how her hips swayed or if the length of her stride created a precise impression, and she wasn't monitoring the timing of her gaze or the angles of her mouth. She simply was, in all her flawless presence, beside him, and he felt that this was easy. On this bright, warm day in the sun, it was easy to be whoever he wanted to be next to her.

"Let's get some shaved ice!" she gasped and stopped him with her arm, looking off at a cart on their right.

"Shaved ice? You _must_ be joking."

She threw him a look. "Come on, you have to try it!"

"Must I, though? Really?"

"Yes," she insisted, already mouthing an order to the vendor. He handed her two cones, a red and a blue one, wrapped in napkins and topped with tiny spoons. She held them both out in front of Lucifer. "Which one do you want?"

"Is there a difference?" he frowned.

"…One is red and one is blue."

"Yes, I can _see_ that. I meant a difference in taste, but I already know the answer," he rolled his eyes, reluctantly taking the blue one from her hand. She took a spoonful of her red one and looked at him expectantly while he played with it, pushing the ice around.

"Oh my god, just put it in your mouth!"

He shot her a look and she smirked, having anticipated what he would be thinking, thereby neutralizing his upcoming witticism. He groaned, defeated, and resigned to the tiny spoonful of unnaturally blue-colored ice that was now facing him. He put it in his mouth looking like Marie Antoinette if she'd been forced to eat plain bread, but to his surprise, it was actually quite pleasant.

"Now try mine," Chloe raised a red spoon to his face. He glanced up from it to the woman with a spark in her eyes and instantly knew there would be no arguing with her. "So, what's the verdict? Do they taste different?"

"Actually, yes! And I quite like yours better."

"Hah, too bad, you had your chance!" she sidestepped him and ran down the alley laughing while he chased after her.

He finally caught up with her at the end where the street opened up to the pier. They stood giggling and catching their breath for a moment. He glanced at the water and tried not to let it remind him of what happened at the docks. She followed his gaze and seemed the have the exact same thought, which made her grow somber.

He searched her face. With each passing second, the sunny smile that had been its staple that day seemed to fade a little and he felt the dream melting away. Desperately grasping for a way to prolong the fantasy, he hunted for something to redirect her attention to when his eyes fells upon a Ferris wheel in the distance.

"Look, there's a fair over there!"

She followed where he was pointing.

"Perhaps you'll now indulge me?" he asked hopefully.

Her face lit up once again and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. To someone used to disappointment, happiness seemed fragile, if at all believable. He tried not to think about it too much.

She had now taken off her jacket and was carrying it on her arm. They'd almost finished their icy treats, and a good thing too, because they were melting in the late afternoon sun. She tossed the cup and snickered at his expression, "Your lips are looking a little blue."

He attempted to wipe them on the back of his hand, but it did little to counteract the food coloring. "Yes, well, yours are quite red." _Perhaps we should make purple._

Coincidentally, purple happened to be creeping into the sky when they got into the Ferris wheel. By the time they got to the top, it had stained the bottoms of the clouds, which stood out like watercolor splotches against the pinks and oranges of the sunset. Chloe was holding her hat in her hands now, too, so as to keep the breeze from carrying it away. She felt calm and a little worn out from the elation of the day, taking the opportunity to settle into Lucifer's shoulder while his arm was draped across the back of the seat. They'd spent so long talking the past few days that they now watched the sun getting close to the water in happy silence. The breeze of fresh sea air in their faces was all the conversation they needed.

When their cabin got the bottom and they climbed out, the sun still wasn't quite done diving in, but the lights and multicolored garlands were turning on one by one. Someone was strumming a guitar in the distance. Chloe walked a little ways along the pier and leaned on the railing, looking out over the sea. Lucifer followed suit. But, the silence didn't greet him as easily here on the ground. After a few minutes of watching her watch the sunset, he felt the need to chat again.

"So, detective, was all of this your elaborate plan to take me out on a date?"

She turned her head toward him and laughed at his self-assurance, "Maybe. What if it was?"

"Then I might have to kiss you at the door," he said, tipping his head down to look up at her eyes.

A slight pinkish hue crept upon her cheeks, but she didn't respond except to tilt her head. A half-smile tugged at one of the corners of her strawberry red lips. It jumbled his thoughts like Mona Lisa unwilling to give a straight answer. The faster his heart raced, the more he relied on his instinctive trickery to steady him. It always worked. Except on her, usually, but now that it seemed to be, he was afraid of running out of tricks. He knew it wouldn't carry him through forever and sometime soon he'd have to create new habits, perhaps starting right now.

"You have a gun, though," he added to dissuade the tension just in case she wasn't on the same page, "and I'd very much like not to find myself on the business end of it." _What the bloody hell was that? Ugh,_ he mentally berated himself. He knew he was capably observant. He saw her blush and he knew what her body language was saying. He knew. This was his forte, and he was absolutely certain. _But just in case she wasn't…_

She turned and patted her hips, taking a tiny step toward him. "You're in luck, I didn't bring it today. Should I have?"

"That depends, do you think you might need it?" He reciprocated her movement carefully. They seemed to be drifting closer as they playfully lured and avoided each other. It was a convoluted dance.

"Why don't you try it and find out?"

His eyes widened and hers sparkled with anticipation. "Wh… _now?_ Are you saying you _actually_ want me to kiss you?" Here was the man who generally believed that every being on earth desired him (and, turns out, was mostly right about that), utterly unable to accept that _she_ was the one saying those words.

"In this beautiful sunset? By the sea? Nah, I mean, _who'd w—_ "

He cut off the rest of her sarcasm with a finger on her mouth, examining her like she was utterly inconceivable. He narrowed his eyes and looked questioningly into hers to find her gazing back at him serenely, the promise of creation and rebirth all stirring in her face. The last rays of the sun seemed to light her hair on holy fire. He was absolutely sure he wasn't worthy of the image of the goddess before him, and he was absolutely sure he had no chance of resisting, no power left at all. He wanted so desperately to taste the ambrosia on her lips, like his whole life had led him to this moment and everything he'd ever done had been to put himself here next to her. He remembered briefly standing in her bedroom, unzipping her dress, and trying not to let the universe come apart, and it did anyway, quietly, when neither of them noticed. He knew there were no pretenses left to hide behind. No deniability. When he kissed her this time, the old him would die and something new would be born, and it was as terrifying as it was wholly inevitable.

So, he closed his eyes and slid his trembling hand along her jaw. She stumbled backward when he finally closed the gap between them. His mouth on hers was overwhelming. It flooded all of her senses and she let his kiss wash over her like a wave of tempestuous sea that washed away all of her fears. She dropped her hat and jacket to run her fingers through his hair when he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up. He held her tight against him and kissed her again and again until she finally drew away and bit her lip, smiling. With her forehead resting against his, he felt so lost and breathless. She stole a glance and saw that he was vulnerable like he'd never before allowed himself to be. She ran her hands so gently down the sides of his face that he lost himself again for a moment in her touch.

"Chloe, I…" he began, but didn't quite know the words. "I've never felt so… much, I think I might—"

That's when he felt her freeze. He didn't see it coming amidst all this idyll. His heart sank like a brick as he watched the waves come to a stop, the passersby halt mid-step, and the beach balls freeze in the air. He turned his head, ready to direct an unprecedented amount of rage at the brother with the worst timing in history, but was stopped short by the hoarseness of his voice.

"Lucifer, _what have you done?_ "


	17. Chapter 17: The Day of Worst Timing

Sorry guys, classes started and things got busy. I'm gonna move stuff along and start wrapping things up, though, so look forward to the resolutions you've been waiting for. Thank you for the support and happy reading! :)

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Chapter 17.

"Lucifer, _what have you done?"_

The words somehow echoed through the surrounding vacuum and rang in Lucifer's racing mind. He stepped away from Chloe's embrace into the coldness of the moment everything was frozen in.

Amenadiel had a dark look in his eyes, one Lucifer couldn't quite decipher. There was fear, sadness perhaps, and anger. The angel wavered uncertainly before taking a step toward his brother, then stopped again in hesitation like he was fighting with himself, trying to decide what to do.

"The prophecy," he finally said.

"What prophecy?"

Amenadiel checked around the scene nervously. "I'm not supposed to tell you."

"You'd _best_ tell me." Lucifer was fuming and his tone came out like a lid on a boiling pot, barely holding back the volcano.

"I don't know what the consequences will be, but I have no choice anymore. Lucifer, there is a prophecy about you."

Lucifer looked worried, but he covered his anxiety with an outward demeanor of rage.

Amenadiel looked at Chloe for several long seconds, not saying a word. Then, " _Her?_ " He turned just in time to see Lucifer scowl and remembered that none of this was making any sense to him. He sighed, trying to choose his words carefully, knowing they carried an enormous cost. "The day that father cast you down from Heaven, he emblazoned the following words onto a stone in the Garden of Eden: _The day shall come for the lost son's remorse. His love for what he hates will bring the end."_

Lucifer stared at him silently, his eyes darting around with his thoughts, trying to comprehend.

"…What?"

"The end of days, Lucifer. Judgment Day is coming." He closed his eyes for a moment in a pained expression. "I feared this would be the time, when you left hell. That's why I tried to get you to go back. Why couldn't you have listened?"

Lucifer fixed his tie as if it would help him put the pieces together, but the truth is, he knew what the prophecy meant, he just didn't want to allow it to exist. "You should have told me."

"I couldn't. Besides, would it have made a difference?"

"No, I suppose not."

Amenadiel examined Chloe again, struggling to understand what it was about her that made her so singular. "From the very minute that prophecy was written, I never thought I'd see the day when the devil fell in love."

"Nor I," Lucifer turned to look at Chloe too now, not bothering to deny it. She stood glowing like the sun setting into the sea, her hair burning a halo around her lovely face, and he instantly knew the prophecy was true. She was the truth, and she left no room for denial or regret. Amenadiel watched the change on his brother's face when he looked at the woman and he, too, knew that the prophecy was now irrefutable. Lucifer's expression slowly turned to quiet sadness. "I don't understand. If father wanted to punish me so bad, why give her back to me at all?"

"That day at the docks? You learned a lesson, I suppose. You grew."

"And this is my reward?"

Amenadiel shrugged. "Mysterious ways, brother."

Lucifer turned toward him, desperation in his eyes. "Tell me, brother, what shall I do?"

"I don't know. I wish I did. The day you cursed the humans, she became a part of what you hate. Now, the prophecy says your love for her will bring the end, Judgment Day."

"Even I am not powerful enough to stop loving her."

"I know. The day may come, though, when you have to make a choice."

"What choice?"

"I don't know, but it will be terrible. I do not envy you."

Lucifer sighed. Terrible choices were his specialty.

"One more thing, brother. I don't know how events will progress now that I've revealed the prophecy to you. Perhaps we will be punished, or perhaps this is all part of the plan. Either way, it's not likely to take mom very long to find out."

With that, the beach balls fell and the pier filled once again with the sound of waves and chatter. Lucifer rushed back to Chloe's side, but was too late to make a seamless transition. She stumbled forward, bewildered. "Wait, you were just… right here…"

"Yes, terribly sorry, det— _Chloe._ An unexpected matter required my urgent attention." She looked frustrated, so he added, "Sometimes I don't get a choice about whether or not to take a call. If I did, there is nothing in the world that would've torn me away from, well…" _from the moment we were having._

She blinked a few times and shook her head. "No, uh, it's fine. You don't have to explain."

He smiled, puzzled. "You aren't curious?"

"Of course I'm curious. One moment you were right in front of me, and the next I'm stumbling into empty space. And," she tilted her head, examining his face, "now, all of a sudden, you look… sad." _Wasn't there something you were going to say?_

He fixed the cuffs of his shirt and shook his head, brushing off the observation. "Nothing to worry about." The lie stuck in his throat.

She stopped him with a gentle hand on his forearm, "Seriously, is everything okay?"

He laughed nervously and covered her hand with his own. "Of course. It's simply getting late and, uh, there are some things I must take care of."

"Oh," she withdrew her hand. "Okay, yeah, I understand. I should be getting back as well."

He struggled not to look at her for fear that he couldn't fake his way through her probing gaze, finding it difficult to hold it together. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she noticed, so he made several more excuses and fled the scene like a hand drawing away from the flame. He felt ashamed as he watched her stand, perplexed, at the pier disappearing in the rearview mirror of a taxi.

* * *

 _Love for what he hates_ , Lucifer paced his living room, _his love for what he hates… will bring the end, it will bring, the end… love for what he hates… the end… fuck._ He turned around and paced back the other way. _The day, of the lost son's remorse… the day shall come… lost son's remorse, bring the end. What he hates. Love. Remorse. Shit._

"Hello, darling." A voice suddenly stopped him in his tracks. He looked up to find a beautiful woman situated on his couch, having perceived no signs of her getting there. "It's been a long time."

"Mum," he narrowed his eyes. At last.

"Couldn't you have at least called?" she feigned indignation.

"How thoughtless of me," he sneered through his teeth. "I suppose you've come to make sure I'm eating my vegetables?"

The corners of her lips curled into a cruel smile. "Are you?"

"No."

"Tsk tsk. You ought to be more concerned with living a long and healthy life," she got up and made her way toward him, looking him up and down. He instinctively backed away. "The truth is, I hear you're making trouble again."

"Oh?"

"I'm gonna be honest with you, honey-"

"—that'll be a first," he muttered under his breath.

The remark only fed into her wicked smirk. "I've grown quite fond of these… humans. All of their petty little problems, buzzing about like stupid little bumblebees, it's all so… quaint. I can see why you like it here."

"Surely you aren't here to tell me you've decided to turn over a new leaf."

"A new leaf? In a way," she continued slyly. "The point is, their untimely demise doesn't mesh well with my plans right now."

"Well, what a relief!"

"So," she took on a curt tone, "This prophecy business, it's just not going to do."

"Why do you care?" he spat in a petulant tone.

She looked at him for several seconds before curling her head back in laughter. "I am simply a concerned parent, watching out for her child. Now, why don't you tell me who the lucky girl is and I'll take care of the problem for you?"

He felt a cold chill run down his spine. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Come on," she pressed, "you know I'm going to find her. Spare us both the anticipation."

The puzzle suddenly clicked in his head. "You vile creature, you want to take over hell!"

She grinned, "I hear there is an opening."

"Not for the likes of you." He looked over to the side, his mind whirring. "The drug, at the docks, that was you. You're trying to introduce a new temptation to pull more souls into your domain. Well, I've got news for you, it's not happening!"

"Baby," she made a mockery of a pained expression again, "Don't concern yourself with this. Let the adults figure it out."

"And if the prophecy is true, then you'll have no more fresh souls to feed on," he narrowed his eyes.

"Tell me where to find her," she demanded.

He laughed. "No."

"It's only a matter of time."

"Well then, enjoy the chase, because you couldn't be more wrong. The prophecy is bullshit. There is no love in my heart and there never will be, and you, of all people, should know that."

She looked genuinely conflicted for a moment and he silently congratulated himself on the convincing lie, but just then, the elevator dinged and the doors sprang open to reveal a concerned Chloe come to check on him. Today was, after all, the day of worst possible timing. Lucifer's mother instantly registered the subtle change in his facial expression and in the blink of an eye, Chloe and Lucifer found themselves hurling down toward a carpeted marble staircase in a dimly lit windowless chamber.

 _Purgatory._


	18. Chapter 18: The Library Part 1

_In light of recent events, I did my best to hurry up and finish these next 2 chapters because I think a lot of us could use a pleasant distraction. If you're hurting, I hope this helps. Kiddos, avert your eyes, the one after this is definitely 18+. Adults who drink, grab some wine. Put on some weird atmospheric music like Casual Affair (Panic! At The Disco) or Control (Halsey)._

Chapter 18.

They hit the floor with a thud. Although the cold white marble was covered by a dull burgundy carpet, Chloe still managed to land on her wrist, which now throbbed while she crawled to sit up. Lucifer didn't seem to have that problem, however, whilst he landed gracefully in a crouch, his fingertips just brushing the ground for balance. Then, when he looked up at her rubbing her hand, he promptly dropped to his knees.

"May I?"

"It's nothing," she held out her hand staunchly, but winced when he slid his fingers down her forearm and arched her palm back and forth with his other hand. The pain concentrated in the contractions that pushed the joint together. He noticed her reaction and curled his palms around her delicate wrist, and for a moment, the warmth of his skin did help to dull the pain. He looked at her apologetically.

"I'm fine," she assured with that characteristic stoicism he'd gotten used to hearing in her voice. "What happened? Where are we?"

He stood up and took a few moments to look around. Though he recognized the place before they even touched the ground, he didn't want it to be real. "We appear to be in purgatory."

"Purgatory? Does that, mean… we're..? _Oh God,_ Trixie!" Chloe jumped to her feet and all that courage promptly drained from her expression.

"No, no," he waved her down, "Not dead. Don't worry, your little human is safe. She likely won't even notice your absence. Time doesn't work the same way here."

"…What? What does that even mean?"

He'd gone off to lean over the railing and answered nonchalantly as before, "It means, detective, that the rules here are a bit different."

"What rules?"

"All of them, really. Gravity, thermodynamics… in time, you might find you can budge them a bit," he gestured nonsensical circles with his hands.

"Is that how you landed on your feet?" She'd come to join him at the railing as he looked off into the distance, ignoring her question. After several minutes, he seemed to mutter under his breath, "I've had some time to figure it out."

They stood on a horizontal stretch, almost a balcony of sorts, of a wide marble staircase, which was one of many that wound around the walls of a tall windowless tower. As she looked down, she saw what seemed like endless floors filled with bookcases and columns. There were no candles and no obvious source of light, but the bizarre library was nonetheless dimly lit by a dull gray glow that seemed to sap the colors out of its surroundings. Chloe looked down at her feet and somehow knew that the carpet they were standing on was meant to be red, but it looked pale and drab as it stretched over the steps. Looking up, she saw the white marble grow far past her view and merge into a singularity of gray lines.

"What _is_ this place?" She asked again, hoping for a more sensible answer.

Lucifer seemed confused at the repetition. "Like I've already told you, it's limbo. It's neither heaven nor hell, but somewhere in between. It's like a cosmic time out; an endless, pointless labyrinth."

"Uh… okay," Chloe wasn't going to pretend she understood, but after the things she'd seen recently, she wasn't going to argue either. "And how exactly did we get here?"

"That's a rather long story." Lucifer turned away from her.

Chloe curled her hands around the cold stone railing to ground herself and quickly remembered with a hiss that her wrist was still probably sprained. The sound startled him as he followed her gaze down to her hand.

"Mind over matter, detective," he began in a feeble attempt to be helpful. Then, more softly, "Pain, like everything, is relative here…"

She looked at him curiously and he wished that he could just take her wrist and heal it for her, but knew he was powerless over that, especially here. "It's, uh, it's in your mind. If you just try to, to concentrate, you can will it away," he trailed off, growing irritated at the helpless feeling of incompetence.

Chloe closed her eyes and tried to command the pain to go away, but eventually gave in to the buzzing in her head. She turned and strode up the stairs to the nearest floor that opened up above them. She walked past a few bookshelves and noted that the aisles extended out of sight into darkness. Lucifer watched wordlessly from the balcony while she picked up a book.

"Let me guess," he commented dryly, pushing himself off the rail, "Crime and Punishment?"

She raised an eyebrow. "No… Alice in Wonderland."

"Interesting," he remarked, jogging to join her upstairs. When he saw her inquisitive look, he attempted to explain himself, "The books are different to each. The library reflects you back to yourself."

"Oh? What do you see?" she asked.

He raised his hand to pick up a book, but hesitated. "Last time I was here, I kept seeing the same titles over and over. Grendel, Dracula, Frankenstein… it was like a poorly planned suburban Halloween marathon." He chuckled dryly, but she could hear the weariness behind it. "That's interesting," he said, finally looking at the book. "Catch-22."

"Hmm," she put the books back and turned her attention to the darkness at the end of the aisle. "What's over there?"

"Hmm?" He looked where she was pointing. "Oh. Nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing?"

He didn't reply, but stretched out his hand as if to say, find out for yourself. Chloe looked back and forth between the darkness and the light and shrugged. They were already in purgatory, how much worse could it get? So, she started walking down the aisle. To her surprise, the darkness didn't get closer as she walked toward it. She just kept walking, endlessly, surrounded by more and more copies of the same books. She wondered if they would change when she finished reading them. Lucifer seemed like he'd been here before. Had he read the books that the library picked out for him? How many books, how many times? It must've been awfully lonely. She turned around and found that the spot where she'd left him stood only a little distance away, like she hadn't moved far at all, but she felt like she'd been walking for ages. She broke into a jog, determined to outrun the illusion. Surely, her mind was playing tricks on her and there was a rational explanation waiting just a few steps ahead. Looking back a few minutes later, Lucifer was still the same distance away. So that's how the aisles worked, then. She sighed and began to walk back.

Lucifer didn't seem in the right spirit to gloat, which worried Chloe a little. He wasn't his usual problem-solving self that she desperately wanted to rely on in this conundrum. In fact, he hadn't even found a way out of here yet. What was taking so long?

"How do we get out of here?" she demanded. The game was getting old.

He looked at her blankly.

"…Luci?"

"I'm afraid I've nothing encouraging to tell you," he shrugged. "We'll get out of here when this place decides it's time."

"What do you mean, 'this place decides it's time?' Is it a living thing, now? I feel like I'm on a creepy game show and I don't understand the rules."

"The rules, detective, as I've told you before, are fluid. For example," he closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. Nothing happened.

Chloe shifted her weight to the other foot. "What exactly are you trying to do?"

He sighed in frustration and snapped his fingers again. Chloe jumped back. The color of his suit changed from black to dark gray. It was a completely superfluous wardrobe change, but startling nonetheless. Lucifer opened his eyes and examined the new fabric. It wasn't what he was aiming for, but it would do. He glared at his hand and when Chloe blinked, a martini appeared in it. Being around Chloe took away his powers, but purgatory allowed any mind to exert some control over its surroundings and he felt slightly more comfortable knowing he could still do that much.

Chloe, meanwhile, examined him with suspicion. "So, you close your eyes and snap your fingers to, what, change your look, conjure a drink?"

He smiled, "Kind of. If your mind is strong enough, it can manipulate the environment."

"How?"

"Well, for one thing, because this whole place is inextricably linked to your mind. Or in this case, our minds. I don't think that's ever been done before, by the way – more than one inhabitant of the same purgatory at the same time. Not sure what effect that'll have, actually. Either way, this place… it isn't real, in the same sense that everything else is."

"Okay, fine, I've seen The Matrix. I can get behind some of this. But why are we here?"

"I'm not sure, but quite frankly, this may be a good time to count your blessings."

"Blessings? Lucifer, what's going on? You left so quickly at the pier… I'm sorry if it was something I said. I came because I wanted to make sure you were okay, but… wait, who was that woman at your apartment? I mean, not that it's any of my business," Chloe unconsciously started talking faster, "and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. In fact, you know what, forget I asked. I'm not your mother, you can do whatever you want."

Lucifer laughed at the irony. He was enthralled by her jealousy, which hooked him like a line, and he found himself unable to resist playing into it. "No, detective, that you are certainly not." A crooked smile crept up his face and grew like the ember she was trying to hide behind hers, the ember he was now very deliberately stoking.

Chloe was clearly bothered by his unsatisfactory reply, but was determined not to let it show. To brush it off, she turned and walked out of the aisle. Lucifer bit his lip, fascinated by how this interaction was playing out. He watched her round the corner and begin to walk down the stairs. She was halfway to the other level when he noticed something odd. The chamber began to grow darker.

He blinked a few times to make sure it wasn't just him. No, the room was definitely getting darker. He hurried to the stairs and looked over the railing. _How intriguing!_ The light gathered around Chloe and she took it with her as she walked away. She didn't even notice. He skipped down the stairs to catch up with her.

"Detective, wait!"

"What?" she looked at him over her shoulder as she approached more bookcases.

He hadn't actually thought of a reason to call her attention, he just wanted to have an excuse to be around her. "…Did you know that in purgatory, none of your actions have physical world consequences? Well, you get to keep your memories, of course, but it would be impossible to get pregnant, for example."

"Oh? You don't say. Fascinating!" she shot back sarcastically, still fueled by his inadequate response to her prying earlier. "Funny, can the devil even have… how did you put it, 'terrible, taxing burdens?' I, for one, sure as hell wasn't planning on bringing the antichrist into the world."

"The antichrist?" Lucifer scoffed, offended at the stereotyping. "Come now, detective, surely you aren't _that_ terrible of a mother."

"Me?! I was trying to insult _you!_ Wait, no…" _Too late._

Lucifer's face lit up. "Oh, you meant you weren't planning on having _my_ child? But you've thought about it. How naughty!" He grinned. "Not that I blame you."

Chloe's face turned bright red, as usual, and she looked for a way to drop the subject. "Whatever, I know you're hiding something from me. Don't try to change the subject."

"Change the subject?!" Lucifer was amazed by her talking circles around him for a change. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"You know I'm gonna find out. Tell me what happened."

He rolled his eyes and plopped into a lounge chair by the railing as she stood watching him with her arms crossed. "We're here because of my mother."

"Your… _mother?_ "

"Yes, I know, it's not a common part of your books, but I assure you she's quite real." He could see the gears turning as she looked off to the side.

"But…"

"The woman you saw in my apartment was my mother. Well, the body she chose to inhabit. The lawyer. I mean, the lawyer was dead anyway, it's really no skin off her bones…"

Chloe threw her hands up. "You know what? I can't even deal with this. Get us out of here. I want to go home."

Lucifer sighed. "I'm afraid I can't."

"Sure you can. You always figure a way out. Get to work." Chloe was looking frustrated as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Lucifer could see her chest rise and fall faster as her pulse quickened and he knew her mind was beating wildly against the reality that they were stuck here. It was the same with him the first time. He remembered the sinking feeling in his stomach. Poor thing. She has to deal with such a major change of belief on top of everything. It's a wonder her mind hasn't shut down completely, but then again, the detective was always strong.

"Hello? Did you hear me? Can we please leave now? I'm tired! This isn't funny anymore." She unconsciously squeezed her arms tighter to her body as panic rose in her throat. The light pulsed brighter, like a throbbing headache, but she didn't see it. Somewhere in the distance of the aisles, a few books fell from the shelves. Lucifer took that as his cue to get up.

He walked slowly towards her, his eyes narrowed in thought of how to deal with this situation. She shook her head and backed away, seeing his expression.

"No. _No!_ This is stupid. Lucifer, I don't want to be here anymore! Please take me home," she pleaded, frantically looking around. More books smashed on the floor, but he kept looking at her.

He tilted his head. "Chloe, I'm sorry, I can't."

"What about all this mind over matter nonsense, huh? Can't you just _wish_ us out of here?"

He tightened his lips, tentatively stretching out his arm to put it on her shoulder. She looked at it, then back at him.

"… _Please?"_

"I wish I could," he said softly, trying to settle her down with a quiet tone of voice. He could see that she felt cornered and scared, and there was no remedy he could give her. He ran his hand down her arm and pulled her into his chest. She was shaking a bit while he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed tight. They stood like that for several minutes, Chloe hoping that if she closed her eyes and hid her face in his shoulder, the world around her would be back to normal when she woke up, and Lucifer absent-mindedly stroking her hair, the smell of which took his mind elsewhere, somewhere where it was spring.

Eventually, her heartbeat slowed. He pulled back to examine her face and saw that she seemed overwhelmed and hazy, and her eyes were unfocused. Anxiety took a lot out of humans, and she'd certainly had her fill of it today. He held her by the shoulders and walked backward into the lounge chair, pulling her into his lap. She folded her legs in and laid her head on his shoulder.


	19. Chapter 19: The Library Part 2

_Okay, well, now this is the most explicit thing I've ever written. Teehee. Despite the euphemisms, 18+! Not kidding! You've been warned. Let me know what you think._

Chapter 19.

When Chloe awoke some time later, Lucifer was still asleep. She didn't want to wake him, so she tried to wriggle herself from his grasp quietly, but he held on to her shoulders with surprising rigidity. She turned toward him to duck under his arms, but found herself in a pretzel of tangled limbs. With her face involuntarily smushed into his shoulder, her left arm slid across his chest to the other side of the chair. She propped herself up on her knee to move her other leg and get better leverage. She couldn't help but inhale the scent of his skin through the cotton of his shirt. He smelled like warmth and energy, if one's brain could make sense of such a thing, and faint traces of pine and smoke. She turned her face a little toward his neck with a sudden urge to put her mouth on it and quickly turned away, like drawing a hand from a fire, because the thoughts filling her head were definitely not… _just, no._ As she finally twisted out from his grasp, she was glad to see he was still asleep because she was now straddling him, and if he woke up, she'd never hear the end of it. Though, she noted, as she sat with her knees spread out on either side of him and her chest at the level of his chin, a part of her really wanted to arch her back and dig her hips in deeper, to grab his hair and shove his stubble into the cut of her shirt. She lost herself in the illusion for a moment and didn't notice as she subconsciously opened her legs and slid closer into him. He must've noticed, though, because he uttered a sleepy moan and gripped the sides of her thighs. She froze. His eyes were still closed and she wondered if he was awake or asleep. What would he say if he woke up right now? What would he think? Would he understand that this is just her body reacting to the pheromones? Would he realize that the reason her heart is racing is nothing more than the accidental closeness of their chests?

After a minute or so passed, his breathing returned to a normal sleepy snuffle, and she let her tensed muscles relax. She carefully lifted his hands off her thighs and climbed off, taking care not to acknowledge the nascent urgency in her fingertips that wanted to rip through his clothes.

Her hand brushed the cold marble railing as she rounded the corner and walked back up the stairs to the upper level. The room was dimmer now and the lighting reminded her of pale moonlight in the silence of the halls. She sat down on the stairs and put her head in her hands. Everything was still as a public library in the middle of the night. Nothing but rows and rows of books, and the cold marble stretching out for miles in any direction. She sighed, unsure of what to do with herself. Something deep inside her belly wasn't going to let her rest. Perhaps it was anxiety. After all, who wouldn't be anxious in _purgatory?_ Maybe this was a good time to see if the whole 'mind over matter' thing really worked.

Chloe closed her eyes and thought, for some reason, of a beautiful moonlit Japanese garden. She imagined herself walking down a wooden deck and onto a bridge that hung over the lake where colorful koi fish gathered to nip at the weeping willow branches that touched the water. A breeze shook some blossoms off the cherry trees and they fluttered through the air before landing and breaking the surface of the lake. She could almost hear the crickets chiming in the tranquil night, but when she leaned over the side to look for her reflection in the water, she only saw a faceless shadow in flowing silver robes. There were ribbons tied around her waist, the ends of which quivered in the wind until it eventually untied them, sending them flying off through the air like feathers. As she looked down, the gown got deeper cut, where now the straps met at the bottom of her ribcage. She thought, for a moment, of her how full her own breasts looked against the lining. It would take so little for the silk straps to fall aside and the thought of that made her feel strangely lush. Then suddenly, she thought of a hand squeezing her shoulder, pushing her down over the railing of the wooden bridge, and – _No. No, no. That's enough of that._

When she opened her eyes, she found herself in a pale silver gown draped over her shoulders and pouring down to the floor, similar to the one in her dream. It was startling to see that her clothing had physically changed, but at the same time, nothing here felt real anyway. Perhaps she was still asleep in her bed back home and this was all a very elaborate, weird sequence of dreams. Maybe kissing Lucifer on the docks was a dream too, and she would wake up any moment to find that they were back to their old working relationship, where nothing was said and everything could feel normal. She'd call him and he'd pick up like nothing ever happened between them, because it didn't, because this was all in her head, and the world would keep turning, day by day, like it always has… and though she wouldn't admit it, this thought made her very sad.

The silk of the dress was double-layered. It was thick enough to make her feel secure, but thin enough to give a sense of freedom she wasn't quite used to in her usual blazers and jeans. She ran her hands down her sides and noticed that she was also now barefoot, but the carpet wasn't cold under her feet. As her hands reached her hips, the image of her straddling Lucifer a few minutes ago flashed through her mind and her heartbeat momentarily quickened again. She tried to shake it away, but the harder she tried, the more detailed the feeling of his burning hot hands on her hips became, and the sound of his dozy moan. She wondered, sometimes, if his moans were as lovely as his face. It filled her thoughts like perfume fills the lungs. She envisioned, again, his fingertips digging into her skin, his lips searing into her neck, and it spun her head like it had always, for as long as she'd known him. And even worse, she knew that he knew. This was his terrain. He read body language like she read clues, and to him, she was surely an open book.

She lay back on the stairs and stared upward in exasperation. It's like this place amplified everything that ever bothered her and she couldn't escape even the most minute of her thoughts. The endless floors of the library stretched into an Alice-in-Wonderland style rabbit hole and she didn't even want to think about where it ended, if it ever did. So, she closed her eyes and thought of a starry night sky instead. She imagined that she was lying in the grass in that Japanese garden and that the earth breathed underneath her, and that crickets chirped somewhere in the distance and fireflies filled the air with a golden glow that was warm. And suddenly, the smell of him filled the air again in her thoughts and he was there, lying on top of her, staring into her eyes. And she remembered the fire that she saw in his eyes when he looked at her, and it was there again, burning past her resolve. Her hands slid up her body and over her breasts, then crossed over her stomach until one of them slid up to her throat and the other, down between her thighs. She felt drunk on how vividly her imagination mixed with her memories here in this place, since she'd never felt so unable to resist her fantasies. She propped up her leg and the slit of the dress fell to either side of her knee as her fingertips played with the edge of the fabric. She could barely think through her movements, and her mind kept asking, _why? Why try? Why not let it be?_

The answer came all too suddenly when she heard someone clearing his throat. She gasped and shot up in horror to find Lucifer leaning against the railing on the opposite side of the balcony, one foot crossed over the other, and the slyest smirk a face was capable of making beaming at her from the pale shadows.

"I wondered whether or not I should, ah, interrupt?" he practically giggled. "Ultimately, you would've been quite angry if I didn't, I think…"

" _Damn right!_ How long have you been creeping there?"

He bit his bottom lip and cocked his head to the side. "Not long… It's really a pity you've stopped on my account, though. I really hoped you wouldn't. Perhaps I could inspire you to change your mind?"

There it was, that honey that poured from his words. Her nostrils flared in embarrassment and anger, though she knew she had little to be angry about. It was her own choice to be reckless, knowing full well she wasn't in a private space. There was always the possibility he would wake up and find her, though she wasn't sure if that was pushing her to stop, or the opposite. While a million scenarios rushed through her head, she found herself unable to come up with a witty retort.

Lucifer's amusement preyed on her silence. He regarded her body unapologetically, taking care to pause and notice how full her breasts looked in this dress she'd chosen for herself and how closely the neckline cut to her perked up nipples. No woman in her right mind would choose to wear a bra, so it didn't surprise him that the silk fabric fell across her bare skin. Her chest rose and fell rapidly and tugged on the fabric that just barely hung on her shoulders. In truth, the image of her slender fingers on her throat and her knees squeezing together to bunch the skirt around her other hand wasn't something he would easily forget. It made his breath catch in his throat when he wandered up the stairs and found her there. He felt the blood rush through his body at the sight of her in the pale light and took a minute to get a hold of himself before engaging her. As he looked at her now, her eyes met his and he felt locked into a stare. She held his attention like a magnet every time he was around her. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, he couldn't defy her for long. No matter, though, he thought. This was the sort of situation where he felt comfortably prepared. Most of the time.

While all of these thoughts were rushing through his head, Chloe worked to find her voice again. So many things raced through her mind that they all blurred together into a complete blank. She finally stopped struggling for words and lay back on her elbows. It was unfamiliar to her to allow things to happen because she always felt she needed control, but something about being in this library, or perhaps something inside of her getting tired of fighting itself, encouraged her to step back and relinquish the reigns halfway. She waited for Lucifer's next move.

He thought about waiting for hers, then thought about what his old habits were telling him to do and say. After all, he'd been in this situation before with many other women. He knew how to read their body language. He theoretically knew how to read hers, too. He could see the sparkle in her eye, the hesitation and the apprehension. And the tension, he could hear it. The problem was that he'd never been in this situation with _her_ , and with her, it was strangely wholly different. It actually mattered, which was terrifying. So, while he thought about slinking into his carefree seductive persona, and while he hoped she wouldn't want to resist it, a voice in the back of his mind told him that somehow it wouldn't be genuine and he shouldn't be an ass. The result of all this contemplation was that he, too, stood frozen and unsure of what to do. But, when he saw her lie back on her elbows and relax, he too felt more at ease, just enough to spring back into action. Or rather, not, because he planted himself even more firmly against the railing, determined to make her come to him.

Chloe considered his nonchalant façade. _See?_ That's what was so infuriating. His body wasn't craving her the way that hers was clawing for him, and she was sensible. She knew he'd been with (like, way) many women and in a way, she was afraid that she was insignificant. She worried that to him, she might be just another conquest. Of course, if he ever dreamed of treating her that way, she would hand him his own ass on a platter, but it still got at the deepest insecurities within her. And despite her brain telling her all of that, her body felt like it was being pulled toward him. Her back had arched and her head had tilted down so she could look up at him from underneath. Before she knew it, she was beckoning him with her finger, and his jaw almost dropped to the floor at the sight.

He took a few hesitant steps toward her, suddenly unsure of himself, before he recovered and came to stand over her. It's funny how essential it was to him to keep this little bit of power, like a safety net in case she decided to stomp on his heart. He'd let her, if she wanted to. He'd let her do anything, but he couldn't let her know that, so he stood looking down at her with a gloating smirk that covered his apprehension. "Yes, detective?"

She glowered up at him and suddenly a change came over her face. He felt a sting of anxiety for a moment. Whatever was happening here right now, had he screwed it all up? She got up and pushed against his chest, fire in her eyes. He wondered if it was hostility or desire while he stepped back. With anyone else, he wouldn't have had to wonder. He would've instantly known. But with her… he let her walk him backward a few paces while her gaze seemed to focus on his tie. Did she hate it? Did she want him to take it off? Did she want him to tie her hands behind her back with it? The thought made him stare even more intensely at her, looking for some indication of how to gauge the situation. Finally, she stopped and he stopped. She looked up to meet his gaze. Suddenly, a million words were being spoken, and yet none were uttered. The space between them felt like a taught rubber band. How long could they keep pulling apart while it bade them back together? The tension was palpable and exciting and terrifying at the same time. Lucifer let his hand float over her cheek without touching it. They seemed to rock back and forth on their heels, to and away from each other, like boats in harbor. He wove his pinky through a strand of her hair and followed it down, then looked back up to her slightly parted lips. Their breath was staggered and hasty in expectation, and their lips drifted so close together, he could almost feel how her skin heated up the air. Just one more tiny inch. Her hair felt like silk, her body quivered like a flame on ice, and the way she always smelled like jasmine wove its way into his thoughts until he could no longer see.

Here he was, standing in front of her, not trying to seduce her with sweet words, nor trying to slip something explicit into casual conversation. He wasn't trying anything for once. It felt like they were naked in front of each other. She couldn't help but feel surrounded by him – his heat, his broad shoulders, his scent – and there were only a few thin pieces of cotton and silk between them. As he got closer, as he ran a finger through her hair and she felt her lips drift closer to his, all she wanted was sweet confirmation. She reached up on her toes and their bottom lips momentarily grazed together, burning like sparklers on New Year's Eve. They breathed together now as he leaned his forehead against hers. A kiss wasn't enough, it wasn't all she wanted, but she wanted it so bad, she might've begged for it if he asked. Then suddenly, he drew back, lifting his hands in surrender.

"What is it?" she asked, terrified by each inch that appeared between them.

He looked down at the floor. _"Chloe…"_

"I'm sorry!"

"For what?" he eyed her, confused.

"I don't know, but whatever it is, I'm really sorry. Please don't be upset… I shouldn't have…"

"Chloe," he took a step toward her and shook his head, "It's just that I…"

She looked at him with those big, pleading eyes, and he lost his train of thought for a moment.

"I've never," he closed his eyes and swallowed, "felt like I couldn't live without a kiss before—"

"I know exactly what you mean…" she said, turning her attention to his lips.

"There are very few things that scare me and this, the thought that _you_ … that I might do something to make you not…"

She shook her head, cutting him off, and cupped his face in her hands as he searched hers like a lost ship looking for a lighthouse. Her hands carried the kind of gentleness he'd never felt from anyone. They were almost trembling when she reached up and kissed him. She washed over him like an ocean wave and he was happy to stand and let it. She kissed him over and over until he wrapped his hands around her waist and drew her into his arms. This was something different, he thought, the taste of forbidden ambrosia. Perhaps, at last, he was deserving of it. He didn't want to think anymore, so he lifted her up off the floor and kissed her back with no reservations.

Now that she felt his cheekbones solidify beneath her palms, she dug her nails into his skin hungrily, wanting to draw him closer than was possible, and he responded by carefully setting her down on the stairs. He tried to leave her lips and kiss her face, but she pulled him back in childlike fear, afraid that he might never kiss her again if she let him stop. She could feel him smile against her mouth. He ran his hand up her torso to her collarbone before it reached underneath her jaw and behind her ear. He drew her closer into him and kissed her with even more eagerness, giving her a small bite to promise that he wasn't going anywhere. He trailed kisses from her top lip to her bottom lip, along her chin, and down her neck. She giggled when he reached her earlobe and he couldn't help but chuckle. How responsive she was. Her body sang with every touch. He wondered with anticipation what kind of symphony hid deep inside of her and where he would need to touch to free it. He couldn't wait to find out.

Chloe angled her head to the side to give him more access as he nipped at her throat. The gentle, calculated bites sent shivers down her spine. He let his hand slide back down the low cut of her dress, avoiding diving beneath it. It's like he said, her attention was all on what he didn't do. Part of her wanted to grab his hand and shove it in her dress, and part of her melted at the softness of his touch. He repeated the motion with the edge of his thumb underneath this time, and though it wasn't that much more than before, she could barely breathe when his hand brushed past her breast.

He grasped her earlobe between his teeth and held it there as he drew circles with his thumb on her solar plexus and whispered, "Darling, it seems like I'm not giving you what you want. Tell me, what is it you want?"

She groaned audibly at his taunt and the way he now smiled with her flesh still in his teeth, then hesitated. He let her think it over for a moment before he laughed and kissed her earlobe. "Not one for dirty talk, I take it? That's alright." With one fluent swoop, he brushed the straps of dress off her shoulders and the sinuous fabric just barely caught on her stiffened nipples. He propped himself up above her and met her eyes for a moment before diving down to catch her mouth in another indulgent kiss. His lips were soft and fiery, and he soon drew them back to trail kisses down her chest until they met the edge of the silk. He gripped it in his teeth and tossed it aside, immediately returning to the flesh that was now exposed to him. Chloe hissed in pleasure and arched her back, reaching up to press him harder into her chest. Her fervent fingers lacing through his hair exhilarated him. He had ached to feel wanted by her for so long.

Chloe felt light-headed and giddy, like she was drunk off his scent. He'd worked her dress down to her waist and took a moment to look over her. " _God,_ you are so beautiful."

"God?" Chloe laughed, amused at the uncharacteristic exclamation.

"Okay, weird," he remarked, sitting back to remove his blazer and toss it aside. Chloe sat up to meet him and worked her way down the buttons on his shirt until she could finally rip it off of him. He lowered his arms and let her, but the second it was off, he scooped her up and laid her back down, this time with their bodies pressed against one another. She felt his skin burn into hers like fire at every inch where their bodies made contact, and it made her aware that this contact stopped at her waist. Her hands snaked down to his belt and for a second, she remembered the shower, how he teased and wouldn't let her take it off of him. Since that moment, she'd had dreams about how she wanted to. The image of whipping off that buckle was so deeply seeded in her mind that she could practically feel it before she even touched it.

He noticed her eyes flutter in reminiscence and immediately connected the dots to what she must be thinking about. After all, it had the exact effect he desired. He wasn't about to miss the opportunity to capitalize on this, so, with a smirk, he sent his hand after hers and brought it out to pin it by her ear. _"Uh-uh-uh…"_ he grinned cruelly. For a moment, Chloe squirmed and pouted, and his heart jumped a few paces at her reaction, but before he knew it, suddenly he was the one on his back. She straddled him triumphantly and his expression of shock melted into a smirk.

"Detective… I see you didn't get enough back there in the chair."

She pursed her lips.

"You didn't think I'd notice how you slid down my lap?"

"So you just pretended to be asleep?"

He laughed. "Not exactly, but let's just say you were my most vivid dream." He seized the moment to grip her thighs the way he did before, as if she needed a reminder. His hands slowly slipped beneath her skirt and up her legs, pushing her dress aside, and all the while he watched her like a hawk. He heard her breath quicken. Silently and without breaking eye contact, he pulled her hips closer to him and slipped the gown over hear head. It fell into a heap on the floor. She reached for his buckle again. This time, he smiled and didn't protest, so she unbuckled his belt and tossed it aside, soon followed by his pants, and not long after, they were both completely naked. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, looking up at her biting her lip, her hair falling down her breasts. This sight of Lady Godiva was driving him crazy. He growled and rolled them over until he was on top of her again, pausing just a breath between kisses.

"Chloe, is this what you want?" he stopped and pulled back to look at her.

" _P…please…"_ she whispered breathlessly.

"Please what? Is that a yes?" his tone was serious and she wrapped her hands around his neck.

"Yes! Wait, is it what _you_ want?"

He smiled, "Since the moment I saw you."

"Then please, I feel like I might explode if you make me wait any more."

"Ahh," he laughed, resting his forehead on hers. "Well, when you put it that way… I think I'd like you to," he lowered his lips to hers so he was speaking against them, "wait just a little longer," his hand slid up her thigh and one finger slipped inside. She threw her head back with a whimper while he continued to murmur in her ear. "Because," his finger now twisted around and beckoned her forward, which the curve of her spine immediately obeyed, "I want you to want me as much as I want you." He added another finger and she whined and squealed, but he continued, "I want you to beg."

"Lucifer, please…"

"Please what?" he cooed in her ear.

"I have wanted you for so long. Every time," he twisted his fingers again and she gasped, sitting up to waver with her face an inch from his, "every time I looked at you, I couldn't stop thinking about…" another gasp, "Couldn't you see it written all over my face?"

He kissed her mouth again when she moaned and propped his arms up on either side of her. She wrapped her ankles around his waist and gripped his shoulders, loving the sensation of how his muscles tensed when he dove down to kiss her face. Her nails dug in hard enough to draw blood when he finally slipped inside her. He closed his eyes and let his forehead fall to her shoulder with an exhale. Slowly, as he moved his hips, she moaned in his ear. Again, and again, like notes, like drops of color, with her hands gliding over every inch of him, with his quiet, deep groans spinning her head. She'd only thought it and it's like he heard her, rolling them to the side to land her in his lap. She pushed him down and threw her head back, grinding her hips against his in rhythm. His hands slid up her thighs and dug into her skin. He couldn't help himself. He'd never grip her hard enough to hurt, but he knew how to toe that line quite well, better than her. She was deceptively strong, but he didn't mind how she grasped his arms now. The slight pain of her grip reminded him that this wasn't a dream and that she really wanted him.

As their moans grew louder and their breathing more shallow, he sat up to squeeze his arms around her waist and look her in the eye. She, in turn, clasped her arms around his shoulders and let him rock her closer and closer to the peak. He saw it budding in her eyes and caught her lips in a kiss right as she thought about screaming, stifling the sound into a desperate _mmmmf,_ then bit her lip and let her cry his name instead. He looked up into her eyes as the waves of ecstasy washed over her and the vision sent him following her over the edge.

They sat in that tight and sweaty embrace for several minutes, both struggling to breathe, feeling each other's chest rise and fall. It was Chloe who broke away first and he didn't want to let his head glide off the crook of her neck, but she climbed off of him and lay down on her back. He watched her like a child, terrified that she was going to slip through his fingers, until a smile crept up on her face and put him at ease. He lay down on his side next to her and picked up her hand to kiss it. He knew then, more than ever, that he'd do anything for her.

The silent library glowed brighter and with more color now, but neither of them noticed. She closed her eyes when she turned to kiss him and when she opened them again, they were lying in her bedroom, fully clothed. It was like nothing had happened at all.


End file.
